


O Angel, My Angel!

by gaypasta



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Anal Sex, Angel Wings, Angel/Human Relationships, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fallen Angel Han Jisung, Fluff and Angst, Guardian Angel Kim Seungmin, Lee Minho is bad at feelings, M/M, Name-Calling, Past One-sided Han Jisung/Lee Minho, past toxic relationship, references to mental illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:47:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 95,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27881730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaypasta/pseuds/gaypasta
Summary: "and no one can ever figure out what you want, and you won’t tell them" - Richard Siken---Seungmin gets assigned a human. This human is unlike any other human - first of all, he's an adult, not a newborn. Second of all, there is something deeply, deeply wrong with Lee Minho. Seungmin would never break the angel code, he could lose his wings. But... he needs to help, something deep inside of him is crying out to help this soul and the agonies that it has endured.Please, Minho, the angel cries. Please let me help.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Kim Seungmin/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 376
Kudos: 319





	1. 1: Phonecall with a Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> | I've  
> Never been to church. I don't think suffering is beautiful, I don't  
> think self-denial is holy, but what do I know when I've never been denied? |
> 
> //Phone call with a Gost, N.T [@somedaysmp3 insta]

When Chan requested for Seungmin’s transfer from the dream technician department into the guardian angel project, Seungmin’s friends threw him a huge party for his promotion. The fledgling angels were put in charge of the dreamscapes for the evening and Seungmin drank vial after vial of sun-nectar and paid the price the following morning. 

The role of guardian angel was a post romanticized by many, to follow a human in the faraway human world, to experience their culture first-hand, to watch them grow from a babe into an adult, to help them through every step of the way. It was a post that only the best of the best were promoted to because it meant taking over every single heavenly duty for the human, from dreamscapes, to prayers, rewriting and reviewing their fate, delivering signs (even though most humans pointedly ignored even the most blatant signs), it required an innate skill of heavenly doings. 

Seungmin went through three years of training. He became acquainted with fellow fledging guardians and made close friends. The training was intense, particularly the languages - angels speak their own languages, but if a human were to hear an angel’s true voice, their eardrums would burst and they would go deaf. So naturally, angels learn to speak every single language that has ever graced the human tongue. That was only a minuscule portion of the training. 

Seungmin graduated, passing all parts of his training (some moreso than others), yet, he was without human.

“I think I know why you’re here.” Seungmin hadn’t even said anything yet. He finds Chan somewhere in a small town in Kenya, carefully guiding a small child away from a dangerous ledge. Chan was by all intents and purposes, his boss. A guardian angel for those without their own individual angel who still needed emergency divine intervention. Chan, along with many others, were responsible for the immediate safety of 99% of the population without a guardian angel. Chan successfully geared the child away from the ledge and back towards his mother, who had been distracted with some foliage nearby. The mother scooped the child into her arms and kissed his head, unaware of the near-disaster that had taken place. “Another day, another disaster averted,” Chan says. 

“Only one a day, sir?” 

Chan swipes half-heartedly. “More like a million a day. Come sit.” Chan lowers himself onto the ledge, his feet dangling over the precipice of the drop. Seungmin, who prefers to stay in the air, floats over the ledge and peers down over the drop. An impressive one. Why in Good’s name hadn’t this been gated? Not even a warning sign? 

Some of Chan’s feathers perk up. “I’ve sent a request to the dream technicians to give a retired builder who lives half a mile East of here a dream of his grandson falling down this edge. The dream will recur for three nights, by then he’ll build a fence around here and prevent an estimated thirty-seven emergency divine interventions in the upcoming human year.” Chan shakes his feathers back into place and gives Seungmin a smirk.

“Stop doing that.” He hates it when Chan reads his mind.

“Stop leaving yourself tuned into the angel communication network then, anyone can hear what you’re thinking if they want to.” 

Seungmin spends a couple of moments reaching to flatten all his feathers - he hadn’t fully remembered which ones tune him into the network, so he just flattens them all. He flattens some at the base of his wings and almost falls out of the sky. 

“Maybe you should join Jeongin as a fledgling again,” Chan says good-naturedly and points at the feathers he needs to fix. Seungmin pulls a face in response and crosses his legs, sitting mid-air with an impeccable level of balance. Jeongin had been a fledgling alongside Seungmin, but his young age required him to continue training past Seungmin and Hyunjin’s graduation.

“Why haven’t I gotten my human yet? Hyunjin got his human five Earth years ago. She has a hearty interest in monster trucks.” Seungmin isn’t impatient or angry with the delay - but he  _ is  _ curious. Guardian angels always got their humans the day of graduation. Once the halo was placed on Hyunjin’s head, he followed Chan down into the human world, into a hospital somewhere in Sweden, where his human had been swaddled in her mother’s arms. Hyunjin, with a nervous hand, placed his fingers delicately against her cheek, and there his halo gained its glow. A gentle, soft white. The halo belonging to an innocent. As Hyunjin’s human grew up, his halo slowly began to shift in shades. One time Hyunjin was lounging with Seungmin in some Japanese gardens and his halo changed colour for the first time - from a gentle white to a shock of yellow - Hyunjin tripped over his own wings trying to get to his human. 

At 573 days old, Hyunjin’s human learned the emotion fear, and Hyunjin learned that failing to concentrate on phasing results in flying face-first into a window. 

Chan’s eyes followed his hands, where he is fiddling anxiously with his halo, currently an empty, soulless grey. An unbound halo. Seungmin tucks his hands into the folds of his robes. 

“Do you ever wonder why I picked you for this post, Seungmin?” Chan’s face is relaxed, but his tone is serious. Seungmin’s friend Chan leaves and Boss Chan takes over. “Thousands of angels from your department alone were better at their jobs than you. There were hundreds of angels who trained in other aspects of divinity who would have been easier to train. Older angels who have more experience than you could even begin to comprehend. You were good at your job, don’t take it the wrong way-” Chan reassures him. “But why  _ you,  _ Seungmin? Why did I choose you?” 

“Why did you choose anyone?” Seungmin shrugs. “I didn’t think about it - I know not how the guardian angels are chosen.” 

“Always so apolitical.” Chan laughs, tilting his head back to the sun. “What do the tales say?” 

Seungmin shifts in his spot. The tales of how guardian angels are chosen have existed as long as the angels have, they’re a childish notion to believe and embarrassing to discuss with your boss. Akin to a human saying they believe in soulmates. Deep down, Seungmin thinks, everyone  _ hopes _ that the tall tales are rooted in seeds of truth. 

“The tales say that a guardian angel is chosen when a human, made by the hands of god, is dusted with the angel’s essence. A human designed specifically for the angel. These special humans, paired with angels, are destined to be great - to become angels who walk the Earth. These humans will save the world, because their guardian angel guides them as such in perfect harmony.” 

Chan hums at his response. It is several minutes before he replies, his voice soft. “And what do you think it means to save the world?” 

“It’s a figure of speech.”

“Is it?” There’s something twinkling in Chan’s eyes. He smiles a little, similar to how Hyunjin smiles over his human when she babbles to her father that her cat and dog are brothers, or something equally as silly. 

“Is it not?” Chan doesn’t respond. 

Seungmin doesn’t visit Earth a lot. On occasion, he’ll visit with Hyunjin, when his human is sleeping safely to explore some gardens and forests. There is a worry that Seungmin will grow attached to a place, only for his human to live on the other side of the globe, and then he will have a bittersweet departure to a place he grew fond of. Angels are encouraged to let the place they bond with be the place where their human lives, it makes for stronger bonds - or something. 

Here, the sun is high in the sky. Here, he sees rolling hills, low trees with their branches spread far and wide, providing shelter for whatever creatures may need a break from the oppressive heat. Between the hills, in the distance, a city, buildings not as high as some of the others that Seungmin had seen, but impressive nonetheless. Below the ledge, where Seungmin hovers unphased, a huge drop into a quarry. The mother plays with her son, a pack of teenage girls crouch to the ground to make friends with a stray cat, an old man dusts chalk from his hands, a man cooking meat over a fire pit. The collectiveness of humans, all whilst living their own independent lives never fails to impress Seungmin. The sun catches on the gold of Chan’s robe-fastening. 

Seungmin never understood why Chan so rarely left the human world, but maybe he could learn. 

Chan suddenly turns around, picking a stray pebble and tossing it in the direction of the teenage girls. The girls don’t notice the pebble that seemingly moved on its own, but the cat does, its fur sticking up, before jumping in its place and running away. 

“Your human is born, if that’s one of your concerns.” Chan turns back to him, his face serious again, a little sad even. Seungmin watches the girls, no longer entertained by the cat, continue on their way. 

“What is the reason for not meeting them yet?” 

“It’s… it’s complicated. This is not a situation any of us have heard of before. The archangels say that I will make the right decision, but I can’t be sure.” 

“You need time to make sure you are making the right decision.” Seungmin can’t hide his curiosity, he knows that it is probably radiating off him in waves. His human is different. It’s interesting that Seungmin would be assigned such an anomaly, but he can’t shake the possibility that this anomaly could very well be  _ bad _ . Especially given Chan’s actions to ruminate on his choice, breaking the standard graduation policy to do so. 

“I chose you on instinct. I had no reason, I didn’t even write anything on your transfer request.” Chan rubs his eyes. “If I am wrong… I don’t know what it would mean for you  _ or _ your human.” 

As the girls round the corner, the last plaid stripe of their uniform vanishing from Seungmin’s view, a van loses traction on the road, the driver slams the brakes, the motion of the van continues, its back swinging wildly into the pavement. It takes the driver mere seconds to regain control, and he continues driving as if nothing had happened. Nothing had happened, but if the girls had been there, all three of them would have been struck by the van within that blink of an eye. 

“Trust your instincts,” Seungmin says. His confidence in Chan is unwavering, as it should be. “We trust you.” 

Chan turns to him, expression painted in gold. He considers Seungmin for a moment, Seungmin guesses he’s probably reading his aura, Chan was good at that (Seungmin had barely passed that part of training). Whatever he read, it must have pleased him. 

“Okay. Would you like me to tell you about him?”

“I would like you to bring me to him.” 

Seungmin’s bold request is met with a momentary wide-eyed look, and then a pressed sigh. “Follow me.” And with that, Chan vanished in a flap of wings, only the sand he had kicked up settling into the air any indication that he had been there at all. 

====================================

“Okay - where is he?” Seungmin asks, impatiently flying around the small apartment he had followed Chan into. Chan’s wings twitch under the weight of leaning against the window. “Is he at school? We should go there instead-” Seungmin shuts his mouth when Chan raises his hand.

“I need to explain some things to you first.” 

“I touch the child’s cheek then the bond will begin, I understand how it works.” 

“No, Seungmin.” Chan massages his head. “Not even  _ I  _ know how this works.” He ushers Seungmin over, and Seungmin complies, matching Chan’s position of  _ standing _ on the floor. He hates the feeling of it. Chan grabs his hands tightly in his own. 

“I don’t think you understand how unconventional this is.” 

“I can handle it.” 

“I don’t doubt that. I don’t want you to freak out.” 

Seungmin just wanted to meet the kid. He had been without him for five Earth years, he can handle no matter what Chan is throwing at him, he is sure of it. 

“Can I please meet my human?” 

“He’s not going to be what you expect-”

“Well tell me what to expect then!” Seungmin cuts him off. “Chan, I have been patient. I was nervous, eager to meet the baby that I would help grow into their adult soul. I have been avoiding reflections lest I see my bondless halo. I watched Hyunjin with his child every now and again - and I tried to be happy for him - I did, but it just reminded me that I didn’t have  _ mine _ \- that my child was out there somewhere, without their angel, with no divine guidance. I was beside myself with worry.” Seungmin takes a breath and rolls his shoulders. His wings stretch and relax into a more comfortable place. With tremendous effort, Seungmin flexes his muscles in such a way that specific feathers at the tips of his wings move out of place. He looks at Chan with an expectantedly. Chan twitches his own wing, and the signal is clear.

_ ‘Tell me about him. What is making you so nervous?’ _

_ ‘He is not a boy, Seungmin.’  _

An image flashed into Seungmin’s head, an image that had the taste of Chan’s memory on his tongue. A boy - no, a man - a man in his twenties, sitting cross-legged on the same sofa sitting some feet away from Seungmin in the apartment, flipping through channels on a television with a blank expression. There was something uncomfortable about the image, a lingering feeling of apprehension, of  _ worry. _ He recognized the bitter worrisome taste as Chan's. 

_ ‘You’re worried.’  _

_ ‘Not about you. I have faith in you, Seungmin. My instincts pulled you for a reason, I should not have doubted them in the first place.’ _

_ ‘About him. You’re worried about  _ him _. Why?’ _

Suddenly, the image is pulled from his head and the connection is deathly silent. Chan folds his wings back and tries not to look guilty at closing the communication line so sharply. Chan usually communicated through the communication network - he was always so difficult to find, skirting around Earth, fixing people, it was difficult to catch him for a chat any other way. This makes Seungmin all the more apprehensive. 

“I’m sorry.” The confusion must have been written on Seungmin’s face. He schooled himself, although that wouldn’t fool Chan anyway. “This is a very… precarious situation, I can’t fully tell you how difficult this is. I really can’t do anything else to help you.” Chan looks… out of sorts. Tired, and itching to leave. Seungmin had never seen him with this expression before.

“Chan-”

“He’s in the bedroom. Please report to me any updates immediately.” And just like that - Boss Chan was back. With a sharp flap of the wings, powerful enough to send Seungmin stepping back, Chan phases out of the window and flies out of sight. 

Seungmin takes a moment to recollect himself. Chan was acting beside himself. This situation must be strange for it to make Chan act so different. 

_ ‘Remember to follow the Guardian Angels Policies, should you need a refresher course, please let me know. Oh - and remember to turn off your communication line. Please stop worrying, leave that to me.’  _

Seungmin, almost panicked, reshuffles his wings back into place. He spends a further few minutes making sure they’re lying flat. 

This goes against everything he has heard of guardian angels and their humans. They’re always matched at birth, never in the history of the angels has Seungmin heard of a 20-year-old man being appointed an angel. Seungmin tries to locate any energies or lingering auras in the room, but he feels nothing. Strange… normally there will be  _ something _ , even in an abandoned building there will be lingering emotions from centuries past… maybe Seungmin’s abilities are out of practice. He makes a note to visit Jeongin someday soon and go over some of his training together. 

He decides to look around the apartment a little first. He is almost shaking in excitement to meet his human - but he missed out on years of building a relationship (if one-sided) with his human, and he has no idea what he is like. His interests, his hobbies, his wants, fears - all of these things should be so ingrained within Seungmin’s brain by now that he can predict the human’s thoughts - this is essential to keeping humans safe. It’s a part of what makes guardian angels so effective. 

Seungmin needs to learn fast to even hope of doing a halfway decent job. 

The apartment is, from Seungmin’s research on modern human accommodation in cities, fairly standard. Open plan, small kitchen, no dining, just a plain sofa facing a television. A front door, two other doors, which Seungmin assumes to be the bathroom and the bedroom. There was something….uncomfortable about the space. Something that Seungmin can’t put his finger on. It looks  _ exactly _ like the rooms he had studied. Not a hair out of place, so to say. He phases through the floor into the apartment below just to be sure - and yep. 

His human has  _ no _ decorations. No photos, no cushions, no books or magazines. Not even a half-drank cup of coffee sitting cold on the kitchen counter. Seungmin phases back up. The lack of personality in the apartment is so strong that it seems … purposeful. Humans, by nature, are sentimental creatures. The lack of anything of sentimental value feels oppressive to the point where Seungmin is half-tempted to look through his cupboards to see if there’s even anything in them, or if this apartment is as soulless as it appears. 

This could - should - shake Seungmin, but he stands (well, floats) strong. If he overthinks any more, he will likely psyche himself out. With a steeled breath, Seungmin stretches his wings and glides across the apartment, phasing through the couch, not even bothering to phase through the door instead, going straight through the wall, and before he has a chance to prepare himself, he finds himself hovering two feet above his human’s face. 

Seungmin stares, in horror, at his human for less than ten seconds before his wings propel him back into the angel realm. When he feels his body collide with the ground, his eyes blink open, he is in a training room with Jeongin. He can’t bring himself to speak of what he saw. Jeongin rubs his back, half-hysterical, tries to smooth his feathers, but nothing helps. 

What the Hill did Seungmin encounter? Because there was  _ no _ way that was his human. If it _was_ even human. 

  
  



	2. 2.A Second Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> | You will fall in love with your friends. Deep, passionate love. You will create a second family with them, a kind of trible that makes you feel less vulnerable. Sometimes our families can't love us all the time. Sometimes we're born into families who don't know how to love us properly. They do as much as they can but the rest is up to our friends. They can love you all the time, without judgment. At least, the good ones can. |
> 
> //Ryan O'Connell

The boy was empty. 

Seungmin has had fleeting meetings with hundreds of humans, watched the worlds inside their eyes. He has felt remnants of their dreams as they brush his shoulder in the days where he walks around in his human form. Even poker-faced, he sees the emotions sparking in the depths of their pupils. Humans are good at faking with each other, lies and plastered smiles are enough to fool their fellow friends, but an angel is not as easily led astray. There is no way to rub away the emotions from an aura, no way to rid the smell of stress from a shirt, no way for an internal monologue to be said without the ghost of it showing in the silent inhales of breath. 

Human nature is to lie about what one truly feels - angelic nature is to take the human, cradle the part of their soul which has been hidden beneath these conditions, and nurture it to fruition. Nurture it until the good blooms and bears its fruit for the world to feast on. 

Seungmin has dealt with humans all his life, in their most vulnerable space. In the dreamscape, Seungmin orchestrated dreams, tuning into the nighttime masquerades of humans all over the world, painting pictures that provide comfort, sorrow, anger, fear: whatever the human needs. Sometimes humans need to feel bad, without the bad, there is no sweetness from the good. A bear that eats honey all its life knows not its sweetness. Murderers that dream of their childhood dog, playing fetch in the park. Adulterers who dream of playing baseball with their dead parents, like they did when they were young. Animal abusers who dream of beds of marshmallows and streets of candy cane.

The point is: even the most depraved humans, those that Seungmin would struggle to love (because angels must love all of god’s children: Angel Policy Sect 42D, 2.5.3) have dreams of purity, dreams as innocent as a child’s. 

There is no pure evil in this world, every single human has a balance of good and evil, even the kindest souls have broken the speed limit, stepped on a bug, lied to their friends. It is a balance which humans teeter along. 

The boy Seungmin saw?  _ His _ human? 

There was nothing. 

There was no balance: no good; no bad. Seungmin had seen more life in a fresh corpse. Seungmin has seen the most depraved images, twisted nightmares that make the grown men rush to the bathroom sink to throw up in fright, images so foul that a human therapist would shake and cower, and yet, this is the most frightening thing he had ever seen. 

Now Seungmin knows how Hyunjin’s human felt, on her 573rd night as a human, when she experienced her first nightmare, experiencing a brand new feeling that felt like the bony hands of death tickling the undersides of the gut, Seungmin has experienced  _ fear _ for the first time in his long, long, life. 

Angels are not incapable of feeling the broad range of feelings that humans can, but some are less common. Fear, for one - surprise for another. Angels have too many predictive tools at the ready to be caught off guard for either fear or surprise. Although Chan felt it when he caught wind of Jeongin’s cry for help, broadcast across multiple channels - likely by accident. The boy was still struggling with the communication network. 

_ ‘Chan! Come quick! It’s an emergency - something’s wrong with Seungmin! Be quick, old man!’  _

Chan flicks the radio of the minivan’s channel to a grocery store ad. The children cry to their mother wanting new limited edition cereal. The mother, tired and worn thin after a long day at work, pulls into the grocery store on the second right, gets herself a coffee, which wakes her up enough to drive home without falling asleep at the wheel. Three children and one adult’s lives continue to live out their due course. 

Chan stands in the road, flexing his feathers, ignoring the cars driving through him. He doesn’t respond to Jeongin, arriving in the training room not seconds later. 

Seungmin is there, on his hands and knees, fist clenched tight enough in Jeongin’s robe that the fabric has torn in places. Seungmin’s aura is a garish yellow, sizzling and oozing along the floor, crawling up Jeongin’s leg, reaching for Chan - he waves it away. With one hand, he grips Seungmin by the back of the robe and throws him into the air. 

Seungmin struggles helplessly until his muscle memory kicks in and his wings kick him into the air, where he floats, bobbing unevenly as his heart rate continues to pound aggressively in the room. 

“Jeongin?” Chan turns to the boy, who looks just as dishevelled and pale as Seungmin. “Would you give us a moment please?” 

“Is he okay?” Jeongin asks.

“What do you think?” Chan asks kindly, gesturing to Seungmin.

“He- he’s scared. Angels don’t commonly experience fear, so it’s likely he’s panicking with this new emotion. You should influence him to feel calmer - or wait, is that against Angel Code - I forget…” 

Chan hums and gently rubs the space between Seungmin’s wings. The feeling makes the boy gasp and shudder, it is a sensitive place. “It’s against Angel Code for regular angels but-” 

“Not the boss-man, got it.” Jeongin disappeared with a noise of flapping wings before Chan gets to scold him for calling him ‘boss-man’. 

He sighs and focuses on pushing calming baby blues into Seungmin’s sharp yellows. The yellow lashes out, slapping the blue, cutting it into pieces, but eventually, after gentle but persistent coaching, the yellow begins to fade into the air, leaving behind little more than a bitter-sweet smell, like rotten candy. 

Seungmin floats onto the floor and lies there, defeated. Chan lies down beside him. 

It takes a while before Seungmin speaks. “What was that?”

“That was your human, Seungmin.”

“That was no human.”

“Seungmin!” Chan scolds, sitting up to peer over the angel, whose halo sits as bondless as ever atop his head. “I know that you don’t mean these words, which makes it even cruller to say aloud.” 

Seungmin’s wings thump against the ground. “He had nothing, Chan. He was empty inside. Completely… soulless. What do you want me to do with that? How am I meant to guide and guard a human without a soul?” 

Chan’s face twisted. Confliction. 

“Do you trust me, Seungmin?”

“Yes,” He answers, immediately. 

“I trust you equally as much. I trust you to guide this human, I trust that you can help him.”   
Seungmin wasn’t so sure. There was nothing to forge there. There was nothing to help. But…. Chan trusted him, and Seungmin was a diligent worker. He will do all he can, however fruitless, as is his job.

“What is his name?” Seungmin asks after a heavy pause. Chan turns to Seungmin with stars in his eyes. 

“His name is Lee Minho, and he desperately needs your help, angel.” 

================================

Seungmin returns to the human that night. 

The nighttime looms, the curtains left open, the boxes of light from the neighboring apartment complex painting the horizons with cityscape constellations. Seungmin phases through the window, a hearty breath to gather his courage when he notices the flickering of the television, dancing artificial colours across the human’s face. 

Seungmin glides through the air, taking a space beside the television, and watches his human for the remainder of the evening. The feeling doesn’t leave him: that this boy is empty, devoid of the things that make humans… human. Is this what demons feel like?, he wonders. But there is nothing demonic about the boy watching seven episodes of a baking competition show back-to-back. It was an interesting show, that despite Seungmin’s best efforts, he ended up floating into the middle of the room, closer to the human, so that he could watch the show with a better view. All Hill breaks loose when a little old lady’s cake topples off the podium with three minutes left. “Ship!” Seungmin swears, rocking forward in the air, fully engaged. 

In the end, the lady makes it into the next round by the skin of her teeth after an impressive comeback in the last section. A four-tiered genoise sponge with coffee and nutmeg biscuits separating the sponges, decorated with a dark chocolate mirror-glaze, tastefully decorated with shards of ruby chocolate. Seungmin has never eaten human food before, but his eyes are having a conversation with his stomach: That looks tasty! Let’s eat some! 

Seungmin almost falls out of the air when the television switches off, forgetting that the human was there in the first place. 

His face showed nothing. 

His eyes empty, as if he had not been watching one of the most enthralling pieces of human media that Seungmin had ever seen. 

Seungmin follows him through the apartment as he opens the fridge (which is, despite Seungmin’s earlier questionings, stocked with food) and makes himself a bowl of fruit which, oddly, he eats standing at the counter, not looking at anything. Just… stands there… popping grapes and strawberries into his mouth, one after the other, until the bowl is empty. He washes the dish with the same level of enthusiasm and disappears into the bedroom. Seungmin decides not to follow him, and instead sits patiently in the space above the couch, waiting for the human to wake up for the next day of ...guidance. 

Seungmin follows his human religiously for the better part of the week, and here is what he has learned:

  * The human, or Lee Minho, as he should really start referring to him as, leaves his bedroom at exactly 7:45 each morning, looking no more or less disheveled than the night before.
  * He then makes a coffee and drinks it standing at the counter, like he had eaten his fruit, empty expression, not even taking his smartphone to pass the time, which Seungmin has observed as normal human behavior.
  * In fact, Lee Minho only ever picks his phone up when it pings, to which he responds to the message, and then locks it again. He replies to text messages with the phone pressed close to his chest and his body leaning over it, Seungmin couldn’t read what he is typing even if he wanted to (which he doesn’t).
  * Lee Minho watches cat videos on the television sometimes. His expression never changes. 
  * He eats according to a set menu. Oats in the morning, egg fried rice for lunch, and chicken stir-fry for dinner. Every day. 
  * He showers _again_ at 7:45 each night. 



Most distressingly:

  * Lee Minho is strangely addictive to observe.



Seungmin can’t describe it, because the man is, objectively, the most boring and robotic person Seungmin had ever seen - but it is strangely fascinating. The way he stretches after watching television for too long, his limbs bending in ways that suggest flexibility. How his nose scrunches after a sneeze. How he checks his door is locked every night before going to bed, despite not having left his apartment. 

These things intrigue Seungmin more than they should. He’s gotten bolder with the boy, hovering close to his face when he is watching television, inches away, searching for  _ something _ in his eyes - anything. But nothing. Not even when the dog dies in an old movie (even Seungmin had trouble keeping his eyes dry, enough for Hyunjin to send through a  _ ‘You okay?’ _ on the communication network. Seungmin replies that yes, he is fine, and frustratingly tries to fix his feathers. He really needs to stop leaving his communication line open like this. 

The days continue as such. Seungmin keeps a log, to which he delivers to Chan’s desk at the end of every week.

_ Day 23 _

_ Watched half an episode of Hill’s Kitchen. Switched it to the news, which he watched for the remainder of the night.  _ _   
_ _ His shower lasted 3minutes less than usual.  _

_ Day 26 _

_ Groceries arrived today. The delivery man knocked and left the food at the door. They switched his chicken out for pork ribs. He threw them in the trash - still had stir fry for dinner.  _

_ Day 41 _ _   
_ _ Watched 5 episodes of the baking show in a row. My favourite was sent home.  _

_ Day 42 _ _   
_ _ Watched another 2 episodes of baking show this evening. Someone made a cake that looked like a penis.  _

_ Day 43 _ _   
_ _ ANGEL INTERVENTION REPORT: Cat D - Code 34.21.01 _ _   
_ _ Quote: “Possible long-term financial ramifications, unemployed human, in/outgoings unknown” _ _   
_ _ Risk Cat: F.  _

_ Comment: Another 3 episodes of the baking show. He forgot to turn the television off before retiring for bed. I turned it off after the series finished.  _

_ Day 50 _

_ ANGEL INTERVENTION REPORT: CAT ??? - Code ??????  _

_ Quote: “N/A” _

_ Risk Cat: N/A _

_ Comment: Lee Minho (loc: bathroom), unprompted, 07:50pm, heard by me (loc: living space): “Turn the television off when you’re done with the baking show.” _

_ ANGEL INTERVENTION REPORT: Cat D - Code 34.21.01 _ _   
_ _ Quote: “Possible long-term financial ramifications, unemployed human, in/outgoings unknown” _ _   
_ _ Risk Cat: F.  _ _   
_ _ Comment: Retired to bed without turning off the baking show once again. _

Seungmin all but throws the report on Chan’s desk. Chan looks up from his work and blinks at Seungmin.

“It’s a Thursday,” Seungmin says.

“Yes.”

“I report on Sundays,” Seungmin says.

“Yes.”

“Read it.”

Chan reads it. And reads it. And reads it. Seungmin tries to control his wings, which are twitching with excitement - and fear - at the development. He tunes into some other angel’s conversation on accident and works furiously to fix the feathers. Chan watches with some level of amusement.

“Still having trouble with the communication network?”

“He  _ spoke _ to me,” Seungmin says, the comment flying over his head. “He knows I’m there.”

“Did you feel anything out of the ordinary?” Chan closes the report and hands the book back to Seungmin, who tucks it into his robes.

“Nothing. I looked directly into his eyes, I even listened to his breathing for ghosts of his internal monologue, there’s  _ nothing. _ ” Chan nods and moves back to open more paperwork, Seungmin slams his hand on top of the scroll. “Chan - he doesn’t  _ dream _ . That’s my specialty. If he dreamt so much as a vision of the back of his eyelids, I would feel it.” 

This catches Chan’s attention, although it isn’t the good kind. Chan’s wings expand and hang limply, the tails resting on the ground. He squeezes the space between his eyes and thinks hard. Seungmin can feel the weight of the thoughts in his own brain, and it hurts. 

“You’ve made progress,” Chan’s tone is one of finality. “Keep it up, Seungmin.” 

“Keep it up?” Seungmin blinks at him. “He  _ knows _ about me. Guardian Angel Policy 01.04.01: Under no circumstances-”

“Under no circumstances should a human know of the specific presence of their Guardian Angel past that of reasonable human faith,” Chan interrupts. “Any breakings of the Guardian Angel Policy’s under the 01.00.00 laws will result in the Angel being taken to the Archangel courts where their fate will be decided. The Archangels will either reassign them administrative duties for eternity or the angel will be felled.” 

The air is thick - Seungmin twists his hands into his robe - he didn’t do anything. He interfered less with this human than he had seen any other Guardians doing with their own. Hyunjin literally  _ lifted  _ his human off of the ground when a cockroach scurried around her feet. 

“I know the rules, Seungmin. Are you forgetting who wrote them?” 

“Um… the archangels?” 

“Exactly.”

“You’re not an archangel.”

“No - but I am next under them. I compiled the rule books, alongside some others within my position.” 

“No wonder they are hardly decipherable.” 

Chan throws his quill at Seungmin. “The language was different back then.” Then, “You’re not going to be felled, Seungmin. When I say I trust you, I  _ mean it. _ Okay. Look at me-” He does. The intensity of the gaze freezes him. “Do whatever you have to do. I trust you. Now get out of my office before I kick you out and lock the pearly gates behind you.” 

When Seungmin returns to the apartment, morning paints the sky. Seungmin has been keeping such a close eye on the time recently that he knows it’s 07:45 am by the rise of the sun in the sky. When he phases, the familiar sound of anxious bakers fills his ears. Minho is standing in the kitchen drinking his morning coffee. The change in his attitude is so small, but so profound that Seungmin faults in the air and almost phases through the couch. 

He is standing with both hands holding the mug, standing poker-straight as normal, but his eyes. Still empty, still dark and… otherworldly but… moving. His eyes dragging lazily around the room like he’s searching for something, butter in the fridge, a book on a shelf, a misguided pen … no urgency, but  _ purpose. _

Something changes, not milliseconds later. Seungmin almost misses it. His breath falls out of step. He holds his breath for half a second longer than usual, then it returns to normal. He finishes his coffee facing the television. Washing it as he always does, trying it with the same towel and putting the mug back in the same place, then goes for his morning shower as he always does. 

Seungmin watches Minho more intently than ever for a few days afterwards, but the phenomenon does not reoccur. Although Seungmin has to admit with reluctance, he might not have been paying as close attention as he should have because Lee Minho has been watching the baking show non-stop, and Seungmin can’t help it. It’s the best piece of television ever created, and who is Seungmin to deny it of its divine reputation? 

Lee Minho’s new habit is odd. A little troubling. He leaves the television on at night. Seungmin watches until the end of the episode, then dutifully makes his hands corporeal enough to press the power button on the remote, but there has not been an instance of the human speaking ...seemingly… to him since. 

It’s entirely possible that he was speaking to himself and Seungmin overreacted, but humans typically speak to themselves often - fifteen times a day on average. For Lee Minho to speak not a word, then spontaneously speak to himself from the bathroom to remind himself to turn the television off when he is finished watching? It doesn't make sense. Nonetheless, because the human didn’t even continue watching the television after his shower. 

A ghost maybe? Angels frequently get mistaken for ghosts, spirits, entities, whatever humans call them. Which is ridiculous, if not a little offensive. Ghosts don’t even have laws when roaming the land of humans. They are well within their rights to interfere with humans in any which way they please. It’s deplorable. 

There is nothing of urgency to report to Chan until:

_ Day 100 _

_ Lee Minho shouts “DUCK” (human curse) unprompted. 5 minutes after checking a series of smartphone notifications. His face looks stressed. His aura holds no colour, his eyes still no spark, no distinct smell of emotions lingering in the air. (???) The remainder of day continues as usual. Television was turned off before retiring for bed.  _

===================================================

**Day 4**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Binnie]]**

**It feels like someone’s watching me in this apartment.**

**[[Binnie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**Ugh not again** **  
** **Dude you literally moved in like 10 days ago i am not helping you carry your shit up 5 flights of stairs again**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Binnie]]**

**What shit  
** **I hardly own anything**

**[[Binnie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**4 tons of face cream**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Binnie]] **

**🖕**

  
  


**Day 13**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]] **

**hey!!** **  
** **Sorry i couldnt help you move in ! classes have been crazy.**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Lixie]]**

**It’s okay, Changbin is a good mule**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**Hahaha I’ll tell him you said that 🤫🤫**

**How are you holding up?**

**[[Lee Minho--- > Lixie]]**

**Good**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**Really? Good! I’ve been worried about you :( i miss you 🙁** **  
** **U know that if u ever need to talk im here? Binnie too!!**

  
  


**Day 25**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**Binnie says u havent been responding to his texts? R u ok???? ??**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Lixie]]**

**Im fine. Sorry i’ve been busy**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**It’s okay!! Just shoot him a text, he worries about you even if he doesnt admit it 😊**

  
  


**Day 26**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Binnie]]**

**im dead. I am texting from beyond the grave**

**[[Binnie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**I know where you live i’ll make it a reality**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Binnie]]**

**Ha ha**

  
  


**Day 32**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**Binnie says you think ur house is haunted again?**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Lixie]]**

**Not haunted**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**Angels again? Have you told your therapist?**

  
  


**Day 44**

**[[Binnie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**You’re not going to therapy are you? You moved across the fucking country to go to a specialist therapist Minho and you dont even go??? You cant keep doing this**

  
  


**Day 52**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**Please respond, we’re worried about you. Changbin is talking about taking time off work to check up on you**

  
  


**Day 53**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Binnie]]**

**I’ll change my locks.**

**[[Binnie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**Youre a piece of shit**

**Ilu.**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Binnie]]**

**Ilu2 <3 **

  
  


**Day 76**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Lixie]]**

**FWD: LINK:YouTube;”Cute kitten learns how to smile!!”**

**Looks like you yongbokie**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**U should get a cat to remind u of me <3 **

**[[Lee Minho --- > Lixie]]**

**You want me to think of you when I’m cleaning up cat shit?**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**T T hyuunggg**

  
  


**Day 90**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**Sorry i forgot to reply to you yesterday hyung!!**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Lixie]]**

**🔪.**

**[[Lixie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**Noooooo! I was on a date :)**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Lixie]]**

**🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪🔪**

  
  


**Day 92**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Binnie]]**

**Is felix on a date again he isnt replying to the video i sent him**

**[[Binnie --- > Lee Minho]]**

**“Hi Changbin, how are you? How is work? Sorry I left you on read for 4 days”**

**[[Lee Minho --- > Binnie]] **

**Answer the question ass face**

**[[Binnie --- > Lee Know]]**

**Yeah he really likes this kid. And i can see you typing stop it. I’ve met him he seems like a good guy dont worry ill cut his balls off and stick them up his nose if he fucks anything up yadda yadda. Hyung talk is done and dusted**

**[[Lee Know --- > Binnie]]**

**I could kiss you right now**

**[[Binnie --- > Lee Know]]**

**I'm begging that you don't**

  
  


**Day 100**

**[[Lixie added Binnie, Lee Minho to “HAPPY BIRTHDAY HYUNG”]]**

**Lixie: Why have we never made a grop chat before??  
** **Lixie: we literally all talk all the time we are like triplets**

**Lee Minho: triplet? With changbin?  
** **Lee Minho: Just spit on my face, Felix - it would be kinder**

**Binnie: “Thanks for the birthday wishes, love you guys”**

**Lee Minho: 1. None of you have technically wished me happy birthday** **  
** **Lee Minho: 2. Who are you?**

**Lixie: we were gonna surprise you but… we know what u are like! So in T-minus one day we will be coming to see you!!!**

**Binnie: i bet 50,000w that there’s a dead body in your closet**

**Lee Minho: what do you mean “coming to see me”**

**Binnie: I’m driving me and Felix down to yours. We’ll bring food, alcohol and puke bags. We don’t have to go out if you don’t want. We miss you and we wanted to see you on your 24th birthday.**

**Lee Minho: okay. See you next year then. I’m turning 23 not 24 so you’ll have to postpone until next year.**

**Lixie: oooops! Uh… ok i might have to fix your cake haha sorry hyung**

**Lixie: but we will see you tomorrow :)!!!!!!!!!!!!!**

**[[Lee Minho went Offline]]**

"FUCK!" Minho shouts, not paying heed to who or what could hear him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minho: could a souless person do THIS? *sends cat videos to his friends*


	3. 3.Everyone in this Room

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> | there is no other choice. Everyone in this  
> room got here somehow and everyone in  
> this room will have to leave |  
> /// richard siken ///

“Which one is yours?” Hyunjin asks. Seungmin starts slightly, accidentally phasing a little through the back of the sofa he is hovering above. 

Hyunjin smiles at him - his wings are so quiet, it’s off-putting. 

The day started off weird: Lee Minho came from his bedroom at 07:45 am looking  _ tired. _ He drank  _ two _ cups of coffee, skipped breakfast, and had a shower that lasted 14minutes longer than usual. He spent longer getting ready in his bedroom (out of privacy, Seungmin only watches him in the open space of the apartment) and came out looking better than he usually did. His skin looked more even-toned, his cheekbones sharper, his eyelids darker at the corner, makeup, Seungmin recognized it as. He spent the better part of fifteen minutes looking over the newly painted Lee Minho’s face, he looks a little different, a little more decorative, but no more or less attractive than he had before. 

Then, the door knocked. On a  _ Saturday. _ Food deliveries only come on Tuesdays. Seungmin fluttered behind Minho with curiosity when the man opened the door.

People! Seungmin’s feathers stiffened in surprise. Two men, around Lee Minho’s age, who carried bags and boxes wrapped in decorative paper in their arms, backpacks on their backs, and bottles of alcohol somehow balanced in their grasp. The noise when the door opens is instant, the two guests shout in joy and tackle Lee Minho into his own apartment - causing the three of them to fall through Seungmin. It made him shiver - inanimate objects are fine, but feeling the warmth of a living creature phase through him feels  _ awful.  _ He quickly flaps up to the ceiling and watches from above, Lee Minho makes a strange twitching motion, like getting bit by a bug, and then begins to begrudgingly push these people off of him. 

“You two have gotten fat, get off of me before you crush me,” Lee Minho says. Despite Seungmin having followed him for 101 days now, this is the most he has ever heard him speak. His voice is perfectly fine, gravelly - probably from disuse, but it sounds pleasant nonetheless. The dark-haired visitor giggles in a gratingly high-pitched sound and pushes all of his weight onto Lee Minho for a moment, causing a breathless gasp from the other. He is then pushed off, along with the fair-haired one.

“We missed you so much, Hyung!” He says. Seungmin always found freckles endearing and was slightly disappointed when he discovered that his human form didn’t have any. Apparently, his human voice is reminiscent of honey - according to Jeongin, so you win some you lose some. 

“I didn’t miss those stairs though,” The dark-haired one groans, standing up and rubbing the back of his thighs. “Speaking of - you never paid me for helping you move in!” 

Lee Minho brushes himself off. “I bought you dinner.” 

“You bought me a pack of instant noodles and an energy drink.” 

“And you ate it.” 

“You suck so much.” 

“Just get it over with,” Lee Minho says and opens his arms, despite the grimace on his face. Immediately, the dark-haired one wraps his arms around him and, with an impressive show of strength, picks him up and spins him around. The entryway is small and Lee Minho cries out every time his feet are propelled against the wall. 

The blonde hops around the two, even as Lee Minho is lowered back onto the ground. “Did you miss us, Hyung?” 

A new expression washes over Lee Minho’s face - which isn’t to imply that  _ any _ expression is a new one, but Seungmin grew quickly accustomed to the grimaces and pained looks that crossed his face over the past minute or so, but this one looked odd on his face. The gentle soft smile that makes his way onto his face, the way his mouth turns up at the corners, the gentle relaxation of his brows, it looks so out of place framing empty, dark eyes. “Of course I missed you, Felix.”

“He said ‘us’,” The dark-haired one says.

“Ah, Seo Changbin,” Minho turns to the boy and claps his shoulder, “You’re also here.” 

Seungmin stayed close to the ceiling as Seo Changbin chases Lee Minho across the apartment and tackles him to the ground. 

Now, Changbin and Minho are sitting on the couch, drinking bottles of ‘Soju’, while the blonde - Felix, is lying on his back on the floor, scrolling through his phone. They are a little buzzed if Seungmin can see right. Even Minho relaxing enough to  _ giggle _ every now and again. Seungmin feels like he dipped into the Twilight Zone, nothing is right anymore. 

“The one with the earring,” Seungmin says.

“He looks pretty normal to me, Minnie. I thought you said he didn’t have a soul?” Hyunjin floats soundlessly across the room, sticking his face into the bags of snacks and alcohol sitting on the kitchen counter. Minho laughs at something Changbin says and slaps him on the forearm. “Sounds pretty normal to me, too.” 

Seungmin furrows his brow. He looks normal now that his friends are here. But is it an act? Humans are defined by who they are on their own, not surrounded by others, so why is Minho putting on this mask. Seungmin watches the way Minho’s eyes scrunch up when he smiles at Felix, who is reading a funny message off his smartphone. The emotions aren’t  _ fake _ , at least by looking at him. But the issue still remains that Seungmin can’t see them. There is no internal monologue whispering from his breaths, no little dancing twinkle in his eyes, no smell of emotion-

“Oh my Good - Hyunjin come over here. Is your smell good?” Hyunjin blinks at him and raises his robe up to his nose.  
  
“I’m not sure, Jeongin says my human form smells like sandalwood but-”

“No, I mean scenting emotional charges,” Seungmin says patiently. 

“Oh!” Hyunjin laughs and smooths his robes, “I did better than you did in that class, why?”

Seungmin ignores the jab. “Mark the scents in the room, please. I’ve been trying to scent Lee Know for 100days with  _ nothing _ . Now that these other two are here, the smell is overpowering.” 

“Seungmin, every human has a scent, maybe you were using the wrong feathers - here -” Hyunjin ruffles a group of feathers on his left wing, opening up the emotional scent receptors. Seungmin gags as his senses are assaulted with overwhelming smells, so strong he can’t even identify them, all he can smell is  _ Sweet, Sweet, Sweet. _ Seungmin gags and drops his wings, letting himself phase into the apartment below. There is no one home, so the scents are milder, some honey, some ginger - oh, vinegar - someone was mad this morning. With a great deal of effort and watering eyes, Seungmin ruffles his feathers back into place, just in time for Hyunjin’s head to phase through the ceiling, his blonde hair framing his face. 

“Are you okay?”

“No thanks to you, I told you that my nose is too sensitive to scent right now.” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” He coos, phasing closer to pinch his cheeks, “Hyunjinnie will help you.”

When Seungmin joins Hyunjin back in the apartment, Hyunjin flutters around the group before settling down in the middle of the triangle formed by the triage. His wings phase through Felix’s stomach.    
“This one smells like peppermint, but there’s an underscent of bitter, like aged lemon zest,” He points to Felix. He is talking animatedly to Minho about classes, he’s top of almost all of them. Even though Seungmin isn’t his guardian, he feels proud on his behalf. 

“He’s happy but he misses his friend.” Hyunjin nods. 

“This one smells like fresh white bread and honey-”

“He is content and feels somewhat at home,” Seungmin says, more for himself than anything else. Hyunjin continues undeterred. 

“There is a sharp seaweed smell, and it’s been getting stronger since he arrived, though.” 

“He’s angry?” Seungmin floats over to Changbin, looking into his eyes, and sure enough, behind the sparks of joy and the settling warmth of feeling at home, there are jagged creases forming. “Maybe he is drinking too much, some humans get angry when they drink alcohol, right?”

“And some angels get angry when they drink sun-nectar. Who am I again… ‘A angel-hair-limbed pretty-boy shirthead?’” Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful wink. Seungmin groans and kicks Hyunjin in the shoulder with all the force of a feather.

“Shut up. Please keep scenting.”

“Okay, your human now -” Hyunjin clears his throat, “Do I, Hwang Hyunjin, have verbal permission to perform an act of guardianship upon your human, Lee Minho, under the Angel Policy… Section...uh-”

“Angel Policy Section 045.02.46: External Divine Intervention under the Investigatory Clause for Benefit of Human. I, Kim Seungmin, give you, Hwang Hyunjin permission. I’m not bound to him yet, you didn’t have to ask permission.” 

Hyunjin pulls a face and shoos Seungmin out of his space. Seungmin takes a breath and stares at Minho, eyes darting around him, feathers prickling and pruning this way and that. The silence is long, the sounds of the group chatting nothing but background noise.

“Seungmin…” Hyunjin finally whispers, his eyes wide, if a little fearful. “There’s nothing.” Seungmin opens his mouth - but Hyunhin interrupts. “There’s  _ nothing. _ I even looked into his aura, his eyes… your human is empty, Seungmin.” Hyunjin flaps back over to Seungmin, feathers in disarray. Seungmin gently smooths them.

“I told you he was … different.” Hyunjin shivers and turns his back towards Seungmin, allowing him to smooth his feathers better. “But look at him, Hyunjin. Does he look soulless? His emotions on his face, his laugh, they seem genuine, do they not?” 

“Don’t make me look at him again…” He whines, wings flapping stroppily. 

“You’re not a fledgling, stop hitting my hands with your wings! Go look at him, trust me, just on a surface level, his expressions are honest…”

With a dramatic sigh, Hyunjin flits back over to Minho, situating himself inches from his face. With every exhale, Hyunjin’s hair is caught in it, licking against his jawline. Hyunjin has to reel back when Minho leans forward to take a chip from the bag Felix is offering. His hand phases through Hyunjin’s stomach, who grimaces at the feeling. He continues to look over Minho’s expression.

Seungmin considers Changbin, who has little sparks of anxiety growing in his pupils. Seungmin floats beside Hyunjin and elbows him. “He wants to say something, but he’s nervous. Do you think it’s the thing making him angry?”

“Maybe,” Hyunjin shrugs. “My human is only a kid, she usually just says what’s on her mind, I don’t have to do all this sleuthing.” 

Changbin is clearly zoned out of the conversation at hand. He is picking at the label of his Soju, eyes dark and still as his mind whirrs away. His leg starts shaking, whatever is inside him clearly begging to be let out. Maybe if Seungmin just… 

Seungmin focuses on the breathing. The repetitive in and out of the lungs. Slowly, the words being mulled over, whispering out of his lungs start to become clear, whispers of words unsaid, but thought enough to achieve some level of corporeality. 

_ Minho …lied….us….care….you….angels…. _

Angels? 

Seungmin grabs for Seungmin, shaking his shoulder in a non-verbal sign to come here and listen to this - but he doesn’t shift, he doesn’t reply. Seungmin turns to tell him off, only to be met with Hyunjin’s pale face, skin as milky as the blonde of his hair, eyes wider than Seungmin ever saw them - and upon turning, Minho shifts and looks directly into Seungmin’s eyes. 

No one moves for what feels like a lifetime. Changbin continues to pick at his bottle, Felix continues to chatter from the floor, unbeknownst that no one is paying his conversation any attention. Hyunjin stays still as a trembling deer at the mouth of a truck, Seungmin stares into the empty, unfeeling eyes that stare right back. 

His eyes may be empty, but his face is twisted in anger. 

What the duck. 

“What the duck.” Hyunjin’s voice little above a whisper. 

“What the fuck?” Changbin’s voice is significantly louder. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

Minho’s eyes shift only a little, so little that Seungmin can see how Changbin would think that Minho was glaring at him. Seungmin feels little relief at the gaze being lifted from him, because the anger being Changbin’s eyes swallows the anxiety. Oh no. 

“I wasn’t looking at you.” Minho settles nonchalantly back into his seat, taking another handful of chips from Felix’s bag. Felix is watching the two nervously, eyes bugging to Changbin. ‘Stop it, please.’ His eyes say. Changbin isn’t looking at him. 

“Oh? You weren’t looking at  _ me? _ ” Changbin puts his bottle down and claps his hands together. “Who were you looking at then, Minho?” 

Minho shows no sign of accost. “If you want to ask me something, Changbin, you can ask.” 

“If I ask the question, I’ll sound insane.” Changbin’s fists flex. Felix sits up from his position on the floor, ready to intervene. Minho just shrugs and pops a chip into his mouth. “Do you think angels are following you again, Hyung?” 

“So I’m  _ ‘Hyung’ _ to you now?” Minho laughs a humourless laugh. “Why does you calling me ‘Hyung’ make me feel as though I’m in trouble?” 

Changbin rolls his eyes. “Typical. Avoiding the questions. I told you it would be a waste of time, Lix.” 

Felix looks desperately at Changbin, hurt at being dragged into the midst of the scuffle. 

“This is going well,” Hyunjin says. Seungmin gently pulls him out of the midst of the crossfire by the back of his robes. Minho’s eyes dart to them for a brief second, followed by a scoff.

“Hyung…” Felix’s eyes follow to where Minho’s had been moments ago, looking in the direction of the angels - but unlike Minho’s gaze, it goes through them, rather than falling on them. “Do you see something?” 

Seungmin hears Hyunjin leave, the flap of wings a purposeful sound to announce his departure. Thanks for the support, Hyunjin.

“Do you want me to answer honestly?” Felix nods. “No, I don’t.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, that’s it.” Changbin stomps across the open space, accidentally kicking an empty bottle across the floor. He stops at the bathroom, takes a look at Minho.

“What are you doing?” Minho scuttles off the couch, but Changbin throws the door open. “Stop it!” 

Seungmin peeks his head through the wall, hearing the sound of crashing and banging. 

Changbin is wrestling open a bag in Minho’s medicine cabinet. “Leave it-” 

“ _ Leave _ it?!  _ Leave it?!  _ How many fucking pills do you still have here, Hyung?” Seungmin watches with bated breath as the bag is wrestled from Minho’s hands and its contents tipped into the sink. Months worth of little orange pill bottles, Seungmin brings himself into the doorway and leans over to read the contents - he’s not nosy, in fact, Seungmin hates himself for doing this, but this seems like an important part of Minho’s life, which as a guardian angel, Seungmin should be informed about. 

_ ‘Antipsychotic x1/day’ ‘Antidepressants x1/day’ ‘Anti-Hallucinogens x3/day’ _

Seungmin, shocked, looks from the pills to his human, who catches his gaze.

“Can you just fuck off and leave me alone!! I don’t need you to look after me, okay? You guys have already fucked me over before.” Minho’s voice is hot, angry. His eyes swimming with rage. Seungmin smells burning forests. “Get out, I don’t want to see any of you again!”

The stillness is deafening. Seungmin tries to move, tries to float even inches away so those eyes aren’t locked with his. The reality of the situation creeps up to him, he is going to lose his wings. His human stared directly at him,  _ spoke to him _ . Seungmin will be felled-

“Hyung…” Behind him, Felix’s voice shatters the silence with the softest touch, a watery whisper. 

Minho’s gaze flicks behind Seungmin, where Felix stands, looking smaller than ever in his hoodie and sweats, the doorway suddenly seeming giant engulfing him. Seungmin floats out of the way. 

“I-” Minho swallows. His eyes fall to the ground, away from Felix’s pained gaze and Changbin’s shocked silence. “I wasn’t talking to you…”

“What did you say?” Changbin’s voice is tight, expecting. His eyes swirl with a rotten mixture of pain and anger. 

“I wasn’t talking to you.” Minho repeats this a little louder, a little more dejected. 

“Who were you talking to, Hyung?” Felix’s voice is raspy, almost clogged shut with the effort of holding back tears.

“An angel.” 

  
  


“You don’t have to leave.” Minho stands in the hallway while Changbin walks around the living space, picking up bags, bottles, shoving shoes onto his feet. Felix follows his actions, but slowly, toeing his shoes onto his feet and tying them as though it was all the time he had left in the world, savouring it. 

“Felix, is your bag in the bedroom?” Felix nods and Changbin opens the bedroom door, walking past Minho without any heed, shouldering Felix’s bag on his left shoulder and his own on his right. Changbin is a small man, but his energy is oppressive in the apartment. 

Felix finishes tying his laces.

“Are you ready to go?” Felix nods again, not meeting Changbin’s eyes. “Right, let’s go.” Changbin opens the apartment door. 

“You’ve been drinking…” Felix says. “We can’t drive.”

“The nearest hotel is half a mile away. I’ve had three drinks. We’ll be fine. Come on.” 

Minho’s slow gaze raises to Changbin. “You shouldn’t drive.” 

“Did I fucking ask you?” 

“Changbin!” Felix hisses. “Stop it.”

“He’s being an asshole.” 

“So are you…” Seungmin mutters. 

“Don't get involved.” Minho’s eyes snap to Seungmin. Seungmin feels faint.

“He’s not well,” Felix says and then immediately regrets it. Minho reels on him.

“ _ Excuse me?”  _ His voice is sharp, a snake’s bite. 

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way, Hyung… it’s just you’re-”

“Insane? Psychotic? Schizophrenic?” Minho lists, “What else did you call me, Binnie? Oh: ‘a delusional slut?’ did I get that right?” 

“Mentally ill. And even if you were all those other things, they're not bad!” Felix says, upset. He carefully tiptoes around the last one. 

Changbin lets the apartment door shut again. He places a firm hand on Minho’s shoulder. “Think of it like this, Lee Minho-” The use of his full name makes Minho flinch. “We’re giving you some space to be the Whore of Babylon all you want.” 

Minho’s face grows cold. His anger wipes off his face almost as if on cue. If this Minho stood beside the Minho that Seungmin followed on his first day, he would fail to tell them apart. Minho’s control over his external  _ and  _ internal emotions is far too precise to be anything but practiced. Clearly, there is some history with angels here… 

_ ‘Seungmin? What’s going on?’  _ Chan’s voice echoes in his head. Oh for fox sake… Seungmin really needs to get a hang of this communication network.  _ ‘Yeah, you do. Are you alright?’ _

_ ‘I’m fine. The humans are having a dispute.’ _

_ ‘Can you give me your location?’ _

“Get out.” Minho’s voice is cold as frostbite. The temperature of the room drops. The occupants freeze with it. 

“Hyung-”

“Both of you. Get out of my apartment.” 

Changbin says nothing and shoulders his bag. Felix stands still. 

_ ‘Seungmin! Location!’  _ Seungmin stretches his wings. Location… Secondary... No, primary, right?   
_ ‘Marginal coverts feathers 5-8’ _

Right. He knew that.  _ ‘Location: Dolly.tree.venomous ’  _

_ ‘You’re in the vicinity of a necessary divine intervention, can you confirm the whereabout of Seo Changbin and Lee Felix?’  _

Well, Changbin was currently stepping out of the apartment, Felix lingering somewhat reluctantly in the hallway.

“I don’t think we should…” Felix says.

_ ‘Road Traffic Collision, 2 Dead in T-Minus 7 minutes. You’re not bound yet, please intervene at your immediate convenience.’ _

_ ‘Yes sir.’ _

Seungmin closed the connection. Now: it is time to panic. 

Seungmin has never done this type of intervention before. Without having a bond, it is harder to influence humans without them becoming aware of divine intervention. It was a delicate balance, of which Chan can walk through without a second thought, but he had been doing this for centuries, Seungmin had been roaming around the dreamscape for his entire being. This was nothing similar - training can only help an angel so much. The lives of two humans rested within his inexperienced hands. Oh, how he wishes Hyunjin was still here. 

“Let’s call a cab,” Felix insists, pulling his phone out.

“You’ve been complaining that your phone is almost dead all night. Just come on, Felix.” Felix fiddled with his phone in his hands.   
  
_ No, Felix. Don’t go. Don’t go. _ Seungmin wills. He wills with all his might, this type of willing typically only works with bonds, but  _ maybe _ if he tries hard enough.

“I feel like something bad will happen-”  _ Yes, something bad, absolutely terrible will happen.  _ “I can call a cab, it will take a minute-”  _ Don’t let your friend leave.  _ “Binnie, come back, stop walking, please-”  _ You’re both going to die if you don’t stop him.  _

“I’ll go to therapy,” Minho suddenly says. Changbin stops resisting the pull of Felix, trying to drag him back into the apartment. “I’ll take my medication. No more angels.”

A pause.

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

The atmosphere within the next hour did a complete 180. Changbin, Felix, and Minho are cuddled together on the couch, many tears spilled (between Changbin and Felix, at least). There wasn’t a ‘heart-to-heart’ per say, just a few quiet mumblings in the space between hugs, too quiet for Seungmin to hear. He was not one to eavesdrop, so he phased outside the window, choosing to watch over the busy streets of downtown Busan, watching the ant-sized people go about their evening. 

Every so often, he glances over his shoulder to look back into the living space, only to look in to see the pair of friends fast asleep. Changbin lying with his face in Minho’s lap, and Felix sitting on Minho’s other side, his head resting in the crook of his shoulder. 

Minho’s expression is open.

Seungmin, like earlier, in the bathroom, can see into his soul, if a little bit. There’s something sad in there, even through the glass. Something a little broken, in need of nurture to mend its broken bones. 

Seungmin, satisfied that he will no longer be eavesdropping, phased back through the window. Immediately, Minho’s eyes find Seungmin. Before Seungmin can settle the drop in his stomach, Minho is standing up, carefully propping Felix’s head on the cushion of the sofa. He gestures for Seungmin to follow him.

In the bathroom, Seungmin stands bashfully at the door. The medications sit in the sink, their orange offensive against the gentle white porcelain. Minho picks up a bottle.

“I meant what I said. I don’t want to see any of your kind again.”

“Again?” Seungmin asks, before he can help himself. Shirt. Oh, shirt. He can’t reveal himself anymore - he’s going to fall - he’s going to be kicked out of heaven. Somehow, Minho knows of him, can catch him by sight. 

“I can’t see you. Or hear you. I can feel you,” His eyes harden. The expression on his face staying the same, but any further probing for emotions now fully shut down. Seungmin is without a lifeline here. “Don't ever interfere with my friends again. I felt what you were doing to Changbin earlier, and you have _no right_. You have _no right_ to will Felix. Now please, get out. I don’t want a Guardian Angel. I don’t need one anymore.” 

Seungmin stays put, his wings wouldn’t, for the life of him, work. Being spoken to so directly by a human leaves his muscles frozen. 

“Leave and don't come back.” 

This time, Seungmin does. 

  
  


Chan trusts him, Seungmin says to himself as he sits in one of the Heavenly gardens. He sheds his human form here, allows his true angelic form to fill the space of the garden. He feels every flower, every stroke of sunlight, every breeze move through his form. The thrums of life within the grass feed him, calm his nerves. He melts into the ground, lets his form flow through the Heavenly ground. 

He will not be felled, Chan assured him all those days ago.   
He says this, but how further can he push this? He’s already broken one of the highest classes of Angel Code, and even then, he has made no progress. Hill, he hasn’t even bound his halo with his human yet, usually, that makes the first interaction between Angel and human. 

Unprecedented situation, indeed. 

A human who does not want a guardian angel? Not entirely unheard of, some humans are prickly about the concept of angels, it’s a big ‘political’ thing. But a human who looks an Angel in the eye (kind of, since apparently, Minho  _ can’t _ actually see him) and tells him to leave him alone? There is no preparation for this. No guidelines, and like Chan said, Seungmin was basically on his own here. 

He should heed the human’s words, humans are patients of free will, for the most part. As a rule, their wishes are to be granted, which is why sometimes, accidents still happen. Some humans die or get hurt without reason, but sometimes, under situations which are to be decided by the angels of Fate and those in line with Chan, these situations can be intervened. Divine intervention is essentially a veto of human free will. Seungmin, as a Guardian Angel, is expected to make these decisions himself. Sometimes, a human  _ must _ experience pain in order to grow, and a Guardian Angel should sit back and let it happen, let the human learn the lessons they need, while avoiding the unnecessary pains, saving them from hurt without reason. 

Does Seungmin have the right to veto a  _ direct order? _ Even if he is not halo bound, his contract has been signed, the human is for all intents and purposes, his human, bond or not. 

His angel form retreats back into his core, his human form containing it once again. Seungmin stretches his wings, watching the intricacies of his feathers flatten into the flesh there. He makes a note to study the feathers again soon, it is getting embarrassing how little he remembers for what they do. He had passed by the skin of his teeth on that part of the training, and Seungmin has a sneaking suspicion that Chan was generous when grading him. 

The sadness in Minho’s face. The anger. It plays on his mind. For days, he leaves Minho on his own, trusting the man to not accidentally fall out of his apartment window or something. 

The human speaks of angels to his friends. His friends insist on therapy, insist on his insanity. The pain within his eyes isn’t superficial enough to be hurt from being called some bad names. It runs deep. If he would let him, Seungmin would reach his hands into his chest, through the hurt and the pain, and find the damaged root. He would clear the weeds, he would tend his garden, plant his heart and nurture it to fruition. He would help him build a prideful and joyous life. He would help him save the world, if he would let him. 

What does it mean to save the world? He ponders this repeatedly.    
He isn’t understanding yet, but maybe he will, someday. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> changbin hitting deep with the biblical insults  
> ((there is no antagonist in this story, i promise)) 
> 
> .. spare comment, my love ? x


	4. 4. Eden burns with envy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> |   
> You screwed up.
> 
> The instructions were clear, you had to keep an eye on him.  
> Oh, but no one gave you instructions on how to look away.
> 
> How could you look away,  
> when his eyes are so alive and so green that Eden burns with envy?|
> 
> \\\\\@from-friggen-eden | tumblr ///

Seungmin is lying in the heavenly gardens, reading an old scroll he found rolled up in the corner of the library. A piece of human literature transcribed into angelic tongue - the translation is a little rough, given it was translated some centuries ago, but it is an enjoyable read nonetheless. Jeongin is there, studying for his flying and phasing exam. Where Seungmin struggles with the communication network, Jeongin struggles immensely with phasing. A hearty bang from the greenhouse tells Seungmin that he’s flown straight into the glass. Again.

“Innie - you need to slow your wings more!” Hyunjin coaches from the sidelines.

“If I slow my wings anymore I’ll stop flying altogether - do you want me to fall to the ground?” 

“If you slow your wings down enough you’ll phase  _ through _ the ground anyway!” 

Seungmin rolls onto his stomach, letting his wings stretch out. 

The heavenscape is always warm, a languid warmth that makes Seungmin sleepy whenever he lies in it too long. Not that he would be able to fall asleep to the soothing sounds of Jeongin crashing into the glass of the greenhouse every other heartbeat. He rolls up his scroll and ties its ribbon, content to feel the warmth of the ground soothe his insides. His days as of late have been filled with stomach-knots of anxiety, worrying for his human. He had kept his wishes, for now. Seungmin hasn’t visited Lee Minho in his waking hours for the best of a week, only phasing into his bedroom in the wee hours of the morning to ensure that his human is still well and breathing. He will, of course, go back. After careful deliberation with himself - and some less than helpful inputs from the other two angels - he’s reasoned that a human who has been appointed a Guardian has been done so for good reason, failing to guard them would result in nothing good, either for the human or for the world. 

The hurt of his human’s soul, small and broken inside weighs heavy on Seungmin - even without a halo bond. The words of the human’s friends, the easy discussion of angels between the three makes for deep discomfort, deep confusion. 

Lee Minho has danced with the angels before, that much is clear. Even become attuned to the point of sensing their presence - which is a rare phenomenon only achieved when an angel lacks subtlety in their guardianship. Seungmin had tried to research such happenings, but came up short. It does break one of the primary rules of guardianship, breaking such rules are unheard of. The only evidence he found was buried at the back of a fledgling section, a children’s book, bearing the warning of the story of a Guardian Angel who fell in love with her human. It was centuries old, and the writing was so faded that Seungmin failed to read past the first foot. 

Said scroll weighed heavy in his robes. The scroll was crumpled behind the heavy bookshelves, only for its gold-tassel ribbon catching the light Seungmin, and likely every other angel who walks these halls, would have missed it. Seungmin was compelled to slip it within his robes, to keep it on hand. So he did. Angel instincts are not to be taken likely. 

Jeongin crashes into the glass again and lets out an impressively high-pitched scream. His human lungs are impressive. “Hyunjinnie - you  _ suck _ at helping!”

“Well you suck at flying! It’s not my fault, you just have to-”

“ _ Listen to my body _ ,” Jeongin says in a high-pitched mockery, “Easy for you to say, you  _ created _ human forms for three centuries, I only got this body ten years ago! I don’t know what to listen to.” 

“It’s not your body’s fault - I made it special just for you, Innie,” Hyunjin coos, “So handsome.” Seungmin looks over to Jeongin flying away from Hyunjin - and towards him.

Seungmin clocks it straight away. The too-heavy push of Jeongin’s wings, the lack of streamlining in his forefeathers. He will be a good flyer, one day - but not today. 

“Jeongin! Slow down, you’re gonna-” Crash. 

Seungmin tries to catch Jeongin, but ends up rolling with him across the gardens, wings thumping painfully against the ground. Jeongin is no better, at least Seungmin had the sense to flush his wings to his back, Jeongin’s wings spread and flap furiously to gain control, only sending them tumbling with even more power. 

They end up a considerable distance away, Seungmin spitting Jeongin’s feathers from his mouth and trying to untangle their limbs. Given that Jeongin still isn’t used to having a human form, it is like wrestling a fish from a bag.

“Training going well, I see?” A playful voice chirps out. 

“Splendidly,” Seungmin spits a feather out of his mouth. 

Chan hums and gently, although with an impressive feat of strength, lifts Jeongin from betwixt the mess of limbs and pats him down gently. Jeongin winces and cards his hands through his feathers, some of which are luckily not broken, although they will need some healing time before he tries any more tricks. 

“It’s alright, Innie,” Hyunjin chirps, ruffling Jeongin’s hair back into place. “Chan will pass you even if you fail a part of the testing, like he did for Minnie!”

Seungmin swipes half-heartedly at Hyunjin’s feet as he picks himself from the ground. He picks some pieces of grass from his robes.

“I didn’t do that!” Chan’s cheeks betray him. “Seungmin passed all parts of his exam, do you really think I’d let an Angel pass the Guardianship exam if I didn’t have the utmost confidence in them?” 

“He never said you didn’t have confidence, he said Seungmin failed a part of his exam,” Jeongin points out.

“It’s true, Chan - I didn’t say that.”

Chan turns his back on the two, fully facing Seungmin with a dangerously fake smile and red ears. “Report?” 

“Ah-” This is the thing: he hadn’t  _ actually _ told Chan the details of what happened that night, and he bribed Hyunjin with two vials of sun-nectar to keep his mouth shut (which lead to a further two vials of sun-nectar being bid to Jeongin to  _ also  _ keep his mouth shut) . It’s not that he was scared, Chan was an honest angel (a trait surprisingly hard to come by in management) and when he promised Seungmin that he would not be felled, he trusted Chan. “I haven’t actually… visited him this week.”

Chan’s brow furrows. “Your duties-”

“He is well. I visit him every night. Just not when he is awake - he doesn’t leave his apartment, he is safe.” Seungmin interrupts. Followed with a hurried, “-Sir.” 

“I see.” Chan looks off in contemplation, for a brief moment, anxiety stirs in Seungmin’s stomach, but he persists.

“You have no other information on the human?” Seungmin is maybe getting bold, if the look shared between Jeongin and Hyunjin are anything to go by. Something flutters in Chan’s eyes, but his lack of response is enough. “You do - and you’re not telling me.”

“I can’t.”   
“Can’t or won’t?” 

“Did something happen? The night when the humans were arguing, when you intervened to prevent the casualties of Seo Changbin and Lee Felix, something happened. I could feel it through your network.” Seungmin’s mouth snaps shut. The pause is long. “ _ You _ won’t tell  _ me _ .”

“You can read the whispers of my thoughts if you’re pressed for information.” Hyunjin shoots him wide eyes, Jeongin has his hands fisted in Hyunjin’s robes. To most, this lack of divulging information is grounds for punishment. Rather than anger, than marking Seungmin’s disrespect, rather than even taking the offer of reading the whispers of Seungmin’s thoughts on his breath, Chan’s face softens into something akin to pride.

“Do what you need to do. You do not serve me, Seungmin. You serve your human,  _ I  _ serve  _ you _ . I will be here for you should you need my support.” 

Seungmin suddenly finds himself with an immense weight lifted from his shoulders.  _ Do what you need to do. _ If the implications are wrong, Seungmin could lose his wings. It’s a threat used to usher fledglings into their cots at night, an old-timey threat, but not one without weight. Everyone knows of Lucifer, the angel who fell. There have been rumours of angels since, but no evidence. No hard proof that any angel has been felled since Lucifer. It is a fate more shameful than that of death. 

On the other hand, the implications are right…if Seungmin is free to do all within his power to take the damaged soul and breath life into its broken lungs…

“I know what I need to do.” 

“Oh? And what is it?” 

“Chan,” Seungmin rights his halo, feels the weight of the lifeless unbond thing atop his head. There, if he feels closely, he can feel anticipation, longing, a newfound purpose thrumming into fruition. “I think I’m going to go save the world.” 

===

**[[HAPPY BIRTHDAY HYUNG | 14:00 ]]**

**Lixie: [IMG: 003243.png]**

**Lixie: Look what my date got me!!**

**Binnie: a heart-shaped cookie?**

**Lixie: Yes!!** **  
** **Lixie: He told me to meet him at the cafe at 2 - but he’s been here for twenty minutes bc he wanted to surprise me with a cookie :)**

**Lee Minho: Suspicious**

**Lixie: i always want to get sweets at this cafe but it’s,.... A little upmarket**

**Lee Minho: is college really kicking your ass so much that you can’t cash out for a cookie**

**Lixie: binnie has been paying for my groceries for three weeks ^^’** **  
** **Lixie: so - yes**

**Binnie: and i’m paying for minho’s therapy and meds. Speaking of which, shouldn’t you be at an appt right now, hyung?**

**Binnie: you’re both paying me back. You’re not pitiful enough to get charity for me**

**Lee Minho: love you too**

**Lee Minho: i’m in the waiting room.**

**Lixie: and your meds? You’re taking them ?**

**  
** **Lee Minho: shake me and i’ll rattle**

**Binnie: that could just be your shriveled up brain rattling in your skull**

**Lee Minho: [IMG:’Binnie_Blackmail_Folder_Screenshot]**

**Lee Minho: Do you want me to dig into these?**

**Lixie: :o can you share that folder with me hyung ?**

**Binnie: do you** **_want_ ** **to eat instant ramen for 2 weeks straight felix??**

**Lixie: sorry i’m on a date I can’t reply rn :)**

**Lee Know: You've been seeing this guy for ages and you haven't even sent me a photo of him**

**Binnie: he’s not ugly**

**Lixie: He’s handsome!**

**Lixie: But i really am going to go, it’s rude to text on a date ;-;**

**Lixie: bye!!**

**Binnie: your therapist is taking her time**

**Lee Minho: tell me about it**

A familiar and greatly unwanted presence takes Minho’s attention from his phone. A strange fuzz takes a shape near his window, the air warping like looking through a pool of water, the sun and the clouds behind the figure becoming disorienting and unsightly to look at. 

  
  
  


“Leave.” 

Well, that was a greeting that Seungmin wasn’t expecting. His wings hadn’t even settled from the flight into Lee Minho’s apartment when the icy-cold voice tears Seungmin from his thoughts. The harshness of the human’s words cleave Seungmin’s plans to sneak in unnoticed and touch his cheek, forming the bond. 

The bond would allow Seungmin to tune into Lee Minho without being in his presence. It’s a feeling only those with the bond can understand. Hyunjin has tried to explain it to him many times, but fails to find the words. Seungmin sees how Hyunjin’s halo will throb between pure white and a pale, soft pink. The girl’s aura is beginning to take shape, eventually, Hyunjin’s halo will glow pink - unless his bondmate experiences intense emotions which overtake the colour of her aura, in which case his halo might take red, or yellow, or blue - usually a sign for intervention. Seungmin’s halo feels heavy, even without touching his head. The soulless grey mocks him when he catches his reflection in the Heavenly rivers. 

He has no doubts that Lee Minho  _ has _ a soul - it was clear with his friends, his expressions honest, even if only presenting on the surface. What colour would his halo be, Seungmin wonders? Would Seungmin’s halo glow a strong red, or a patient green? It’s impossible to say, but he so desperately wants to find out. 

The halo bond establishes a direct connection between human and angel. The halo seeks the human’s soul, and takes a little of it, and entwines it within the atoms of the halo. With the halobond, Seungmin hopes that he could see into Lee Minho’s soul, such as he has kept hidden thus far. He could help him, figure out exactly what caused his soul to take such a sad, lonely shape - and fix it. 

It is two o’clock in the human world, and as per his schedule, Lee Minho is sitting poker-straight on his couch, but rather than watching television, his smartphone is pressed close to his chest, screen hidden from prying eyes. 

Seungmin steels himself. He is going to help this human, it is his duty as an angel. His wings flex, he flexes them to double-check that his feathers are all where they should be. With an involuntary twitch of one of his feathers, Seungmin’s nose is accosted with the lingering smell of last week’s anger. A bitterness which Seungmin is out of practise with sensing.

“If you could  _ not _ sneeze your angel dust all over my carpet, that would be great.” 

Oops. A gold-silver dust catches the rays from the sun as it settles onto the carpet at Seungmin’s feet. Seungmin didn’t even know that could happen. This must be what happens when an angel doesn’t use their senses for so long. 

“I told you not to come back, and I meant it.” 

Seungmin readies himself to push his intentions into Lee Minho, ruffling his feathers and pushing the words to the forefront of his brain -  _ ‘I cannot leave-’ _ A couch cushion phases through his stomach and flops gracelessly onto the floor from its collision with the window.

“Don’t do any of your angel shit on me. I told you I wanted nothing else to do with angels. Do you have feathers in your ears? None of you ever fucking listen.” 

_ ‘I want to help-’ _

“Fucking  _ stop!” _

_ ‘Let me help you-’ _

“You angels don’t help - you make everything one hundred times worse!” 

_ ‘Lee Minho-’ _ Seungmin isn’t used to being talked over, when Lee Minho’s cold voice cuts him off once again, Seungmin’s temper snaps.

“If it wasn’t for me, your friends would be  _ dead _ right now - the best you can repay me is to  _ listen.” _

The human starts, his phone falling from his chest and landing on the floor with an unsettling crack. He makes no motion to check it, eyes wide trained on Seungmin. Seungmin had projected his voice out loud. Duck. 

Duck. 

He really  _ really _ didn’t mean to do it. He hears the echo of his voice thrumming in the air. The human’s silence opens an opportunity to have his voice heard - if that means  _ literally _ his voice, then so be it.

“I am your angel, whether you want me or not. I don’t know what your previous connections to angels were or what has caused your distrust, but I am here to help you, not harm you. There is something inside of you that needs saving, Lee Minho. I am here to do that.”

The human rubs his arms, furiously trying to chill the goosebumps rising there. His eyes flicker with … something. Between readability and the blank sheet Seungmin is so accustomed to. On and off, on and off, a television with poor signal. The human shakes himself, pointedly looking away from Seungmin. 

“I don’t need saving,” He spits. 

“You’re worth saving, Lee Minho.” Seungmin projects his voice with purpose, words echoing around the room in such a way that threads his words with power, with divinity. The lamp in the corner of the room flickers, the television flickers on and off. The short cuts of Lee Minho’s hair at the nape of his neck stand tall with the static energy in the room. 

The static energy slowly dwindled, being absorbed into the walls of the building, dissipating out of the air. Seungmin turns the television off where it had continued to flicker. Seungmin, within the past two minutes, has broken so many angel codes that his brain can’t even comprehend the list of policies he would be faced with in the names of the Archangels during his trial. He shakes the thoughts away. Chan trusts him. 

Slowly, a sea salt smell lingers in the corners of the room. Faint, barely-there, but fresher than the ghosts of the fight last week. The smell isn’t unpleasant, nor pleasant. A natural smell, which Seungmin scents as pain. A complicated, unnecessary pain that should not have happened, that an Angel should have prevented… the smell has a sharp edge to it: regret. 

Lee Minho’s voice is small, barely a sigh. “You angels always say that.” He laughs a joyless sound. “Don’t make me force you to regret those words, too.” 

To disrupt the soft whispers of Lee Minho’s words with his own voice, which rumbles the air it travels, feels wrong.  _ ‘Angels don’t feel regret.’  _ Minho shivers when Seungmin’s thoughts are willed into his head.  _ ‘Sorry. It must be uncomfortable for you.’ _

Lee Minho makes a glance in his direction but doesn’t hold his eyes. He looks oddly small like this. Unlike the towering presence in the bathroom. “Right.” The quip of his lip let on that he knows Seungmin doesn’t, like Seungmin is a child. As though he knows more of the angelic realm than Seungmin does - nonetheless, Seungmin perseveres. 

_ ‘What happened?’  _

“None of your business.” 

_ ‘Your friends know?’ _ Seungmin adjusts his tone. He wants not to be seen as prying, but curious. At this, Lee Minho seems to remember what he was doing when Seungmin had appeared, picking up his phone between deft fingers. He fumbles with the phone, twirling it around in his grasp - a lifeline.

“They think they know.” 

_ ‘I won’t pry.’  _

“Following me around everywhere counts as prying.”

_ ‘I give you privacy in the bathroom and your bedroom. I never left the living space.’ _

“Small mercies.” Lee Minho’s gaze falls to him again, but it lingers. “What do you look like?” 

_ ‘My true form would burn your eyes out of your skull.’ _

“Ah - that ugly?” 

_ ‘I look like a human. I’m not familiar with human beauty, I might be.’  _

The human snorts as if Seungmin made a funny joke. He doesn’t get it, but it seems like an inside joke anyway. 

“I don’t want to see your human form - you’ll be…” Lee Know’s voice trails off, eyes growing unfocused. His shield slips and there, Seungmin sees it. Only for a second, but the sudden light in his eyes could replay in his mind a million times. He could paint it from memory, he could write miles of scrollings on it from that brief second alone. Here, there is no doubt. A faint purple, only noticeable when the white shirt reflects the colour. His aura slips out, and as if a possessed man, Seungmin edges towards him. 

This human has pain, more than Seungmin may ever understand. This human has been touched by the angels before, of which has left a crack through his soul, breaking its branches. His aura is small, a sapling, but if there is one thing about saplings, it is their determination to grow. They will wrap their roots around any obstacles, they will push concrete and stone out of their way. They will grow through fences, walls, they will merge with other trees to survive. A sapling will fight for its survival.

Seungmin will clip the weeds. Seungmin will water and tend to it. The sapling  _ will _ grow. The fruit will be bore. 

The human’s face lights in panic, Seungmin is close - so close to his cheek, the bond inches away. Lee Minho scuttles to the corner of the couch, trying desperately to put distance between himself and the angel, if the aura had not been drawing Seungmin’s attention, a drug, he may have noticed the fear in his eyes. He grew closer still, the power of his even gentle movement of his wings more efficient than the human could hope to be. Even as the human topples asp-over-head off the arm of the couch, Seungmin continues. 

It goes like this: 

Lee Minho’s back is pressed against the wall, Seungmin’s gentle palm growing closer. The pants of breath brush against his hand. 

Lee Minho’s eyes grow red and wet. 

Lee Minho swallows a lump in his throat.   
Lee Minho snaps Seungmin back to reality with words dipped in venom on a double-sided-sword. The acid sours into Seungmin’s soul - the venom is nothing but old news to the wilting sapling of Minho’s soul.

“I can’t let another angel lose his wings because of me.” 

Seungmin takes himself a hearty few wingspans back, letting Minho breath in relief of his space no longer being invaded. Seungmin will not be felled, he tells himself. Help the human, no matter what it takes. 

He repeats this to himself again and again. 

_ ‘I will not fall. I am here to help you, Lee Minho, I can’t fall.’ _

Minho scrubs at his face, fighting a frown. “Please leave me alone.” 

_ ‘No.’ _

“No…” Minho repeats, “No?!” He registers Seungmin’s response, “Get out of here!” 

_ ‘I will help you, whether you accept my help or not.’  _ The human stands up, staring at Seungmin as if examining him. Considering that Minho can’t  _ actually _ see him - it’s a transparent intimidation technique.  _ ‘We’ve had this conversation already.’ _ Seungmin points out. 

The obnoxious ringing from the human’s smartphone cuts the conversation short - not that the conversation had gone very far, even if the better part of an hour had passed. Minho grumbles and snatches his phone from the couch, muting the call after a quick glance at the screen and pockets it. As soon as his brain registers what caller ID had been glaring on the screen, he makes a pained face and pulls the phone back out of his pocket, answering it with a deep sigh. And a pointed look in Seungmin’s direction.

_ ‘Hey, hyung. How are you?’  _

“‘Hyung’? Am I in trouble again?” 

_ ‘No! Well -’ _

Lee Minho takes a deep breath. “Well?”

_ ‘I was looking through the credit card transactions… and you haven’t paid for your session today.’ _ The voice on the line was calm, but Seungmin could recognise the tersity that lingered. 

“Changbin-”  _ ‘He’s mad, like the other night’ _ “I left the card in my wallet.” 

_ ‘Is that not where credit cards usually go?’ _

“I left my wallet in my coat.”  _ ‘He’s smarter than you give him credit for.’ _

‘ _ It’s cold today. You went out without your coat? How did you pay for the bus without your wallet?’ _

“I had change lying around the apartment.” Minho’s voice is tight, all the tighter every time Seungmin pipes in.  _ ‘I have a bad feeling.’ _

_ ‘If I call the clinic, they’ll confirm that you made your appointment, right?’ _ The voice on the end of the phone was tight. Angry. Worried. 

“Are you serious?”  _ ‘De-escalate the situation - I have a bad feeling.’  _ Seungmin pushes further. “Do you seriously have this little trust for me?”

_ ‘You can’t get mad at me for not trusting you with this after the shit you’ve been pulling for months-’ _

“Right. So I don’t get a  _ shred _ of fucking privacy now?” The human’s eyes are burning.  _ ‘De-escalate now. Things will get bad, I have a bad feeling. Listen to me.’ _

‘ _ Look -’  _ A steeled breath.  _ ‘I’m not trying to fight you-’ _

“So you just want to shit on me and have me sit there and  _ take  _ it?”  _ ‘Lee Minho - please listen to me!’  _ Seungmin pushes his will harder and harder - “Well, Changbin, you can take you’re credit card and shove it up your-  _ Would you shut the fuck and stop chirping in my god damn fucking ear?!”  _ Minho pulled the phone from his face to direct his venom at Seungmin. Seungmin was trying to  _ help. _ This human needs some  _ serious _ guiding alright.

_ ‘...Who are you talking to?’  _ The voice is tired. Disappointed, and Seungmin feels the bad feeling grow tenfold. This is the final straw, bowing at its breaking point.

“No one-” 

_ ‘Hyung. I can’t do this anymore-’ _

Lee Know almost crushes his phone in the strength of his hold on it. “Would you pack it up with the woe-is-me bullshit-” 

Seungmin’s voice, when he speaks, rumbles through the apartment violently in its presence. Something falls over inside the fridge, bringing other things crashing down with it. The television remote vibrates off the coffee table and onto the gold-silver dusted carpet. 

“Hello? Is this Seo Changbin?” Seungmin’s voice speaks directly into the microphone. 

_ ‘I- hello? Yes?’ _ The pressure on the straw pauses for confusion.  _ ‘Who is this?’ _ Possessiveness. Caring. Worry. 

“What the fuck are you-” Seungmin interrupts Minho. Minho moves the phone away from Seungmin’s form, but it makes no difference. Seungmin’s voice could carry across the oceans if he wills it. 

“I’m Minho-hyung’s friend. I accompanied him to his appointment today. I can only apologise for his attitude, it can be expected to have emotional turbulence when unpacking one’s feelings and history to a stranger for the first time - and Minho-hyung isn’t the type to indulge feelings willingly, right?” Seungmin tries for a laugh. It’s been a while since he’s practised his human-laugh. 

_ ‘Oh. I didn’t know Minho had other friends besides me and Felix-’ _

“Excuse me?” Minho shouts down the phone. “If your ugly face was the only one I saw all my life I would have ended it by now.” 

A snort echoes through the smartphone’s speaker. The pressure is yielding. 

“I paid for his session today, since he  _ did _ forget his wallet - although I think he did it on purpose because we planned to go out for lunch afterwards. Needless to say, I’m not paying for Minho to pig out, so we went back to his apartment.” 

_ ‘Ah, he is sneaky like that.’ _ Changbin laughs.  _ ‘Let me pay you back-’ _

“No need, I owed him a favour and I’m more than happy to be out of that position.” 

_ ‘And how do you know Minho?’ _

“Ah…” Seungmin faults, “It’s a long story, and a little… complicated. It would take too long to get into, but to put it short: we didn’t really have much choice.” 

“Everything that happens to me happens out of my freewill…” Minho groans. 

_ ‘I’m sorry you were caught in the middle of that…’ _ He pauses to allow Seungmin to introduce himself. He doesn’t.

“Don’t worry about it. We fight with the ones we love because we care too much.” 

_ ‘Right. Yeah.’  _ A thick swallow. The pressure lifts. The bad feeling goes away. 

“You suck, Seo Changbin,” Minho says, the bite is lifted. He looks sheepish, at least. 

_ ‘You suck so much. What kind of guy makes his friends pay for everything? Do you have no shame?’ _

“Do you have no shame for the way you speak to your elders?” The argument starts up again, but the bad feeling is gone. Seungmin needs not intervene. He gives Minho privacy and sits outside the apartment, hovering amicably over the fifteen-story drop below. 

“What did I tell you about fucking with my friends?” Minho throws the window open, smartphone in his hand, ‘Binnie’ ID still flashing to indicate the call had only ended seconds ago. 

Seungmin spins himself around to face Minho - could the other even tell when his back was to him, he wonders. 

_ ‘I had to.’ _

“You’re not  _ their _ angel. Back off. Don’t wrap them up in this shit.” 

Seungmin prickles.  _ ‘I’m not involving them for any nefarious cause, only when it’s essential.’ _

“Leave them alone.” Minho seethes, half of his body teetering out of the window. 

_ ‘Last week Changbin was going to drive half a mile with Felix for a place to stay while under the influence. His reaction time would have been slowed by three times. A car will have cut him off, requiring an emergency brake. He didn’t break soon enough and hit the back of the car, in an attempt to gain control, he tailspins into the opposite lane, where a 18-wheeler would have crushed into the passenger side. Felix would have been pronounced dead on scene, Changbin would have gone through a 9-hour long surgery to attempt to cure his internal bleeding caused by multiple breakages in the ribs, tibia and collarbones. He would be pronounced dead on the table.’  _

Minho’s mouth hangs open. Seungmin waits patiently for him to process the information. It is petty, ill-advised to tell humans of near-misses such as this, but for fox sake - Seungmin can only take so much. 

“I got a bad feeling that night. That’s why I said I would… do what they wanted me to do.” 

_ ‘I was trying to will Felix, but you’re obviously attuned to angelic happenings such as this. You probably picked up on the despair I was giving Felix.’  _

Minho nods, face tight. He blinks hard. “And earlier? On the phone?” 

_ ‘I can’t say for sure. The butterfly effect wasn’t my department. Changbin’s family ties to you would have severed - that I can say.’ _

“He’s not my family.” 

_ ‘Don’t be so naive to assume family is blood-born. A family tie is created when a relationship becomes unconditional on both sides.’  _

“Clearly it is conditional if it was going to be severed.” 

_ ‘The severing of a familial tie is unique, and often messy. The love is unconditional: the love is ongoing, even if the relationship is severed. It’s usually severed to prevent both party members getting hurt.’  _ Seungmin delivers this honestly.  _ ‘Your friends love you very much.’  _

To his surprise, Minho takes a staggered breath. His head is tilted up to stop the tears in his eyes falling prey to gravity.  _ ‘You can cry, I unpacked a lot on you. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry.’ _

“I’m going to watch television,” Minho says after a quiet minute. 

_ ‘The baking show?’  _ Seungmin can’t help the excitement in his voice. He loves that show - the last episode left on such a cliffhanger in the previews that it haunts Seungmin’s dreams.

When Minho laughs it rings as a golden bell struck in a summer’s day, the sun gleaming from its polished curve, the sound cutting without stutter from the breeze, clear and demanding of attention. It is a pleasant sound, Seungmin thinks. 

“You really love that show, huh?” 

_ ‘Yes.’  _

“I left it on for you, I thought you would leave me alone if I distracted you, if I was boring enough.” Minho settles into the couch. He leaves the window open, which Seungmin shuts behind him, given the cold breeze in the air. He settles in hovering above the couch, crossing his legs and letting himself relax as the television flips to his favourite show. Minho’s words ruffle his feathers (metaphorically, thankfully). 

_ ‘I won’t leave you.’  _

“You can’t say that.” Minho says. 

_ ‘It’s true.’ _

“Don’t say it then.” 

Seungmin, despite being glued to the show for the better part of an hour, notices when Lee Minho slips into a nap. His face smushed up against the arm of the couch, phone still open mid-text in his palm. His neck is crooked awkwardly, which will leave a horrible ache in the next upcoming days. 

Seungmin, allowing himself some level of corporeality for the nth time today, picks the cushion from where it had been thrown against the window earlier and with the delicacy only an angel could achieve, slips it under his human’s head. 

His eyes catch the message on Lee Minho’s smartphone.

**[[HAPPY BIRTHDAY HYUNG | 16:08 ]]**

**[unsent] Lee Minho: I love you both.**

Boldly, Seungmin presses the ‘send’ button, and locks the smartphone as to preserve the battery. It begins buzzing immediately. Minho twists in his sleep. Seungmin settles into the air near the window, watching the people below as his human gets some needed rest. In the corner of his eye, he sees the timid purple of Minho’s aura rising and falling along with his breaths. 

It would be easy. For Seungmin to reach over and form a bond as the man slept. It will happen, a Guardian Angel cannot be without a halobond with their human. 

It will happen, Seungmin thinks. He turns off the overhead light in lieu for the small lamp in the corner of the room. It will happen when Lee Minho is ready. When his sapling is strong enough to splice. Seungmin will nurture the little purple damaged thing until then, and for the eternity afterwards. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> changbin is a rich boy just dont question it ok
> 
> :) thank u for reading! .. spare comment ... <3 ?


	5. 5.Angel, lest you forget

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> |How could you look away,  
> when his smile is so uncharastically kind and   
> inviting that it feels like coming home?  
> (Though you don't really know what "home" is   
> supposed to feel like)
> 
> O'but Angel, lest you forget,   
> you are Holy.  
> And he is decidedly not.|  
> \\\\\@from-friggen-eden | tumblr ///

As the days pass with Seungmin following Minho around his apartment, slowly the routine that Lee Minho had kept so strictly had fallen out of sync. 

It happened so gradually, that Seungmin had hardly noticed until suddenly everything was different. Seungmin is flying in languid circles, his wings growing stiff from inactivity. Minho is there, lying on the floor watching videos on his smartphone, making his way impressively through a bag of chips. 

The fridge is stocked with a range of food. Lee Minho drinks his coffee sitting down at his couch, usually typing away on his smartphone, sometimes he drinks it in his bedroom, of which the door now is left open rather than tightly shut. Seungmin still lingers in the living space unless invited in. Which is exactly what happened this morning.

This morning, Lee Know woke up at 6 am, with a groggy face and puffy eyes, followed a workout on the television. He then showered, made himself a breakfast of reheated leftovers, and pulled out a laptop which he worked on for the better part of an hour.

The screen flashed with a low battery warning and the boy swore, standing up to retreat to his bedroom to plug his laptop in so he can continue working. 

“You can follow me if you want,” He invited, so Seungmin did. 

This is where they are now. 

Seungmin fluttering around Lee Minho’s room, trying his best not to examine all the knick knacks in his bedroom which had hidden themselves in the shadows of the darkness. Stepping into Lee Minho’s bedroom was akin to stepping into a different world. Photos and posters tastefully decorate the wall, the bed decorated with various pillows and a plushie of a banana with a grinning face. Signs of life are crammed into each inch of the room. Screwed up balls of paper at the desk, a half-full glass of water on the bedside table, a folded hoodie which had fallen from its place on the foot of the bed onto the floor, some soil dusting across the window sill from a small collection of houseplants. 

It eased Seungmin to see that Lee Minho had sentimental items, even if confined to the space of his bedroom. Lee Minho settles easily on top of his bed, continuing to type away at his laptop, it cheers Seungmin when his eyebrows furrow and he furiously slams his forefinger on the ‘backspace’ button. 

Lee Minho’s eyes are still closed, the delicate purple aura only creeping out every now and again, usually when his eyes begin to grow heavy, head lolling on the sofa until Seungmin wills him to go to bed. 

Seungmin is gently brushing his fingers over a wilted leaf of the houseplant, willing its health when Lee Minho’s voice accidentally makes him start, with all the energy flowing through him, it festers and struggles for a release-

“Seriously? You’re sneezing on my  _ houseplants _ now?” Minho groans and pulls the plant across the sill, closer to him and delicately tries to blow some of the gold-silver dust from its leaves. 

_ ‘Sorry - you startled me. What did you say?’  _

“I said: Are you really just gonna hang around me all day like a bad smell?” 

_ ‘That’s generally how this works.’  _

“Mhm,” Mimho shakes the plant, getting some soil on his bedsheets. “It’s off-putting when I just see a weird semi-transparent blob following me around.” 

_ ‘That’s your problem - not mine. If you were less perceptive, that wouldn’t be an issue.’  _ Seungmin circles Minho with careful wing strokes, Minho, displeased, swipes through his form. Seungmin groans and flops onto the floor - or rather, hovers some inches above the floor.  _ ‘Don’t do that - it feels terrible.’ _

“I know. Stop hovering in front of my face.” 

_ ‘What are you doing?’  _ Seungmin lifts himself up to peer at Minho’s laptop. Minho shifts the laptop away from him half-heartedly.

“I’m applying for jobs.” 

_ ‘You feel guilty because Changbin pays for your therapy and medication, yet you don’t go.’  _ Seungmin says. It is a fact, one of those nights where Minho’s face and eyes were vulnerable and open, he could feel the guilt in the air, heavy and bitter. Minho shoots him a glare.

“Don’t read my mind like that.”

_ ‘I didn’t read your mind, I can’t help it. If someone puts words in front of you, you can’t help but to read them.’ _

“Unless you’re blind.” Seungmin audibly hums, the noise makes Minho quip his eyebrow in his direction. “Why are you singing?”

_ ‘I was humming in agreement.’ _

“It sounded like you were singing.”

_ ‘I haven’t sang in my human voice before. My angelic singing is nice, so I’ve been told.’  _

“What does an angel’s voice sound like?” Minho asks. His eyes are trained hard on the laptop, although unfocused, trying not to look interested. 

_ ‘Hm…’  _ Seungmin considers this for a moment.  _ ‘It might be a little easier if I speak out loud. I can’t show you my true voice, but I can maybe give you an idea.’  _ Mino settles more into the mattress, his laptop falls from its position on his knee, tilting the screen out of reasonable view- not that Minho pays mind to it, eyes trained on Seungmin’s form.

Seungmin has good control over his voice, so he works quickly, carefully. He settles for his regular human voice first, coughing a little from misuse. “This is my human voice,” Then, he wills it, he pushes energy into it, the volume doesn’t increase, but the room thrums with energy, the plants’ gentle stems sway from the electricity in the room, “This is a little stronger. If you were to do something dangerous, I would use this voice to catch your attention.” 

“It’s attention-grabbing alright,” Minho blinks harshly and shivvers. 

“Now, let me know when this begins to hurt you.” Seungmin trusts Minho to tell him to stop at the first niggle of pain in his ears, so he gradually pushes more power into his voice. He lets out a quiet hum, humming an old nursery rhyme from his fledgling days. More golden energy filters into the voice, the energy grows. The balled-up piece of paper shivers and shakes, its tight creases loosening from the vibrations. The soil on Minho’s bed is sent to the ground. The window shakes. The bed creaks. Three floors down, a man slaps his television as his drama is reduced to static. Outside, dogs sing along. Lee Minho’s dangling earring jumps and leaps like a fish out of water. 

Lee Minho hasn’t said stop, so Seungmin doesn’t. 

Golden hues begin to break from his form, cracking through his figure and shooting ribbons of heavenly gold across the faded grey walls, painting photos of Minho, Changbin and Felix at an amusement park with a divine glow. 

35,000 feet away, a commercial airline momentarily loses its radio signal. Across Busan, car radios sing songs of static. Lee Minho’s face is painted with technicolour flashing from his laptop and smartphone screen.

Seungmin decides to stop when his voice grows strained. It was not his true voice, but it was closer than what any human should reasonably be able to handle. The human’s face shows no pain, no surprise, and when he speaks, he speaks not of awe, or shock, “Your F# was a little flat.” 

“What are you?” Seungmin finds himself asking, his voice fully human again, if a little strained. 

“I’m human,” The human rolls his eyes, “Obviously.” 

“Your ears should be bleeding at the least.” 

“Sorry. Feel free to wiggle a chopstick in there if you want.” 

Seungmin suddenly feels an urge to look at Minho’s photos, so he does, and there he sees the photo that caught his gold. Its image bleached, the three humans hardly visible within the flash of white. But there he sees something, a shimmer of gold in the shape of finger prints in the corner of the photo, similar to the little oil prints humans leave on photos. The gold-silver shimmer had absorbed Seungmin’s light, taking as much as it could to breathe itself with life again. 

Remnants of angel essence. 

Seungmin’s wings flex in discomfort. The essence is… well, it’s not his - that’s for sure. It isn’t Hyunjin’s, or Jeongin’s… or any angel Seungmin has met thus far. Angels have tread these floors before, Seungmin has no doubts. Angels have touched Minho in such a poignant way that he’s tapped into the divinity enough to hear an angel’s voice, to sense their presence…. 

Where is the angel? Why was Lee Minho left without his angel? Why was he abandoned? Before he can think any further, the human’s phone rings. 

“It’s Felix calling. You know the drill, scram.” 

Seungmin rolls his eyes. He does as he is told, respecting his human’s privacy. Humans aren’t really supposed to have  _ privacy _ from their guardian angels - people slip and fall in the shower, people die on the toilet, people have heart attacks during sex. It is a life of constant surveillance. Maybe Seungmin is going soft. 

No, he isn’t going soft. 

With Minho being aware of his presence, it feels wrong to loom over his shoulder, even hanging around his apartment all day, giving him privacy when he needs it feels overbearing. Seungmin sulks over the sofa, three minutes later, Minho speed walks in, phone balanced between his shoulder and ear. Still in conversation with Felix, he grabs the remote, switches the television on, and puts the next episode of the baking show on the television. 

“Thank you, Lee Minho,” Seungmin says. He relaxes his wings and actually allows himself to perch on the edge of the couch. The feeling is strange on his thighs. 

_ “Who was that?”  _ The voice on the phone asks. 

Lee Minho widens his eyes pointedly in Seungmin’s direction and twitches his head towards the phone - do you see what you’ve started by speaking out loud?! 

_ “Oh - is that your friend? Changbin told me you made a friend in Busan! Can I talk to him?”  _ Another warning glance.

“Not right now, he’s busy. Something about work, I don’t know - he’s uptight either way.”

_ “Fine - then I won’t send you a picture of my boyfriend then, if we’re keeping secrets…” _

“Boyfriend?! When did this development happen? Lee Felix I swear to God-” His flow pauses and he shoots a look to Seungmin, expecting to be told off of blasphemy or something. Seungmin can’t help the snort that comes out of him. “What happened to asking for permission before courting?”

_ “You want him to ask your permission before officially dating me?”  _

“Yes! Obviously!” Minho’s face dawns a cheeky smile. “You kids have no respect nowadays.” 

_ “Are you my dad?”  _

“You’re grounded. Honestly, you send me a 3-minute long video review of every new shampoo you buy but you drop getting a  _ boyfriend _ in a casual conversation….” Seungmin tunes Minho out as he retreats into the bedroom, shutting his door behind them.

In the baker’s tent, it is bread week. Seungmin is on the edge of his seat. 

====

“What week are we on?” Minho asks Seungmin one evening after his shower. He gently towels his hair, watching the bakers on the television run around the tent in a red-faced panic. The apartment is cold, and even though Minho could turn on the heating, he told Seungmin that he tried to keep his rent down, so he just bundled up. Sure enough, he was wearing a hoodie and a pair of fuzzy pajama bottoms. 

“Chocolate week.” Seungmin has gotten more practise with his voice. He finds it leaves less risk of him leaving the communication network open. He had gotten a shock, when mid-conversation with Minho, Jeongin’s voice desperately bounced in his skull,  _ ‘Who has a 45-minute conversation about air fryers? Either be more interesting or shut up!! _

Minho puts his hands on the back of the couch and leans forward, squinting slightly at the television. Seungmin has to drop himself onto the couch to avoid phasing through Minho’s face - he does it on purpose to annoy the angel. 

“Who went home last week?” 

“The Irish one with the beard.”

“Aww,” Minho coos. He picks himself up and rummages through his cupboards, “You liked him.” 

“His future has more in store for him than baking bread, I will live. What are you doing?” 

Minho freezes, spoon-in-mouth. “Eafphing Nufella wimf a sfoon.” 

“It’s because you didn’t eat enough at lunch, so your body is craving sugar. I told you to have an extra helping of rice.” 

“Shuff up, pigeon feaphers.” 

Seungmin sighs and returns to his program, not expecting Minho to plop down on the couch beside him, still eating away at his jar of hazelnut spread. 

“Brush your teeth well tonight.”

“I always do,” Minho retorts, cleaning the spoon with his tongue. Seungmin, who can see his own reflection, sees how the spoon reflects his halo, unbond and empty. Seungmin retrains his focus on the television and desperately tries to not think about it. 

  
  


====

Seungmin is pruning his feathers, settling them into place delicately with hands. It is a long and arduous process that typically angels will do for each other, but knowing that Minho can sense other angels, he doesn’t wish to overwhelm him by inviting Hyunjin to help him. 

His human is lying on the coffee table - Seungmin has passed the threshold of Lee Minho’s oddities by now - furiously texting away on his smartphone. His face is twisted in concentration, but he has a habit of looking like that when he’s texting his friends, like he is angry at his fingers for not being able to type fast enough. 

The day outside is cheerful. Even for the cold season settling in, the air is dry and the sun reigning in her true glory. The winds are still, not even the electricity lines swaying in the breeze. The day reminds him of the weather in the Heavenly Gardens, tepid, not particularly hot, but the sun casts her glow enough to warm the full of your cheeks, rather than wasting her energy on heating up the air. As though she is reaching her tender arms out to you, directly, to give you a gentle kiss of her warmth. 

Seungmin has learned that Lee Minho can’t feel him whenever he phases outside, unless he opens the window. He phased outside some days ago to help a pigeon untangle her leg from a pair of shoes thrown over the electric line, and when he rose himself back up to the window, he saw Minho, who had been contently telling him about some trivial topic, like how he likes his coffee, suddenly standing up, bone-still. He looked … not scared… not sad… an odd mix of relief and grief. The feeling of knowing your pet is growing old, but still being sad when it’s their time. Of knowing the bad news your friend is about to break - but being dismayed hearing it nonetheless. 

‘I knew it would end up this way, but the ache of missing is not lifted by the gift of knowing.’ 

When Seungmin had phased back in, Minho sighed, glared at him crossly, and continued his conversation. 

Seungmin clicks the window open and phases through it. Minho hears the click and looks over, in his direction. “Why don’t you join the birds and sit on the electrical wire.” 

“I prefer to float,” He replies, voice raising a little to carry through the outside noise. 

Minho just shrugs. “Suit yourself.” 

Seungmin sits out in the sun for the better part of the afternoon, he even pulls out the scroll he had been reading in the garden. The feeling is nice. Angels are not meant to be cooped up inside so much, his wings had began to ache and feel still. He should go out for a fly some night that Lee Minho is asleep. He could visit Hyunjin and his human. Apparently she has developed an affinity to biting her older sister, which Seungmin would pay money to see Hyunjin trying to convince her to cut it out. 

Eventually, the sun begins to fall into her slumber, so Seungmin phases back inside and closes the latch behind him.

“You know I won’t leave, if you don’t feel me with you, I’ll never be far.” 

“I don’t care,” He lies. “You leave during the night, too.” 

Seungmin pauses. Minho continues cutting vegetables for his dinner. “I have duties to attend to sometimes. You can’t fault me for that.” 

The human gathers the onions in his palms and adds it to the pan. “Oh? Like what?” 

“I shouldn’t say.” 

“Playing flutterby in the gardens?” Minho asks, a spark in his eyes. Flutterby was for ease of comparison, similar to human rugby. Only in mid-air. 

“If I ask you how you know that, will you answer?” 

“Of course not.” 

“Of course,” Seungmin sighs. “If you’re that curious, I am helping… a friend… pass an… important exam.” Seungmin chooses his words carefully. Minho laughs at his deliberation. The sound makes Seungmin smile. They say that everytime you laugh an angel gets his wings - which isn’t true, of course, but as a Guardian… when their human laughs, their soul throbs, their soul gets a little stronger, a little kinder, a little more powerful. When Lee Minho laughs, his wall comes down for a moment, that little purple thing gains a little bit of balance. It cheers him more than he may admit. 

“The Guardian exam, that’s what it’s called, right? Is it hard?” He pops a cherry tomato into his mouth and continues cooking. Seungmin lowers the gas a little before his onions burn, “Hey! Stop telekinesising my appliances!” 

“Your dinner was going to burn,” Seungmin does take a wingspan back, though. “Some parts of it are harder than others. Generally you train between 50-100 human years before your exam.” 

“How long did you train for?”

“Fifty-three.” 

“Oh, lower quartile, impressive. And your friend?”

“...Ten.” 

Lee Minho pauses in his cooking to look over his shoulder. “Ten?” 

“Yes. He is one of the youngest angels, too. Chan must have plans for him…” Seungmin thinks out loud - not expecting silverware clattering to the floor to pull him out of his thoughts. Lee Minho is open-mouthed.

“Bang Chan?” The air grows cold. 

“How do you know Bang Chan?” 

The plate of food Minho had been carrying is harshly pushed back onto the counter. It slides across it and some of his dinner is carried off the plate in the momentum. The noise itself is angry, even without the cold, calculated face Minho is approaching Seungmin with. 

“You need to leave.”

“What?” The tone shift was so severe that Seungmin, even adaptable Seungmin had trouble keeping up, he sputters the words out stupidly, and chokes even more when the human starts waving his arm through his form. “Hey! Ducking  _ stop _ it!” 

“You need to leave. Get out. Get out!” His hands speed up, pushing and pulling through Seungmin, Seungmin sneezes. The dust collects in Minho’s hair. The way it catches in the light is… it’s nice. It settles something inside him.

“Get the fuck out! Please! Jesus Christ, please!” Minho corners him, pushing him as if to force him to phase into the wall, out of the apartment. 

“Stop - stop  _ hitting  _ me!” 

“Get out then! Get out and don’t come back! It’s for your own good you halo-topped-turkey.” There was something wrong. 

Something desperately wrong. 

Seungmin tries to speak with him, tries to calm him, but the boy is relentless. The pushing doesn’t stop, the yelling, the nasty words. The human is… the human needs Seungmin’s help. He sees it clear as day, with the bitter tears trailing down his face, the pain rolling off of him in waves, the salty taste of pain on his tongue. The human doesn’t calm down, in fact, he gets worse. Seungmin’s alarm bells start ringing and before he knows it, the boy is gasping on his own breath, struggling to find enough oxygen to fill his lungs. 

His human was in immediate danger. 

_ His _ human. 

Seungmin never understood the power of his instinct: until they took over. 

Seungmin pushes Lee Minho onto his knees. The boy lifts his head and meets his gaze. Seungmin plants his very real, very corporeal hand atop Minho’s head. Minho’s don’t falter. They hold his gaze true and firm.

“Don’t do this for me-” The human pleads. 

“I have to, you know this,” Seungmin says. His voice spills from his lips in a calming honey. 

“You’ll fall. You’ll fall and it will be my fault.” Seungmin watches the boy plead on his knees. His hands rise to fist Seungmin’s robes. His knuckles grow tight with the force of it. The boy seems to be fighting himself from burying his face into the silk of Seungmin’s robes, begging him to stay, to help fix him, please, angel, please help me.

Seungmin carefully dislodges Minho’s fists from his robes. His hands are careful and warm around Minho’s shaking wrists. He follows Minho onto his knees. There, he presses a hand to the nape of Minho’s neck, drawing him in close. The nape of the neck is one of the most sensitive places of the human body, the most delicate, the most vulnerable to danger. Seungmin covers it with his palm, protecting Minho’s tender spots from harm. As he will do with all of Minho, as he will protect his soul for as long as he is able. 

“The heavens hurt you, Lee Minho.” The boy’s face scrunches up. “Do you think that was your story? Do you believe that the Angels of Fate imprinted your soul for this hurt to be your destiny?”

“Everything happens for a reason,” He whispers. 

“No - not everything. Some people get hurt for no good reason and there’s no lesson. No greater plan. No ‘greater knowledge’ to be forged from the hurt. Sometimes pain is just pain, nothing more and nothing less.”

“Then what is the point of you?” He spits wetly. His eyes speak more of hurt than anger. 

Seungmin can taste him. He can taste the pain and it aches. How Seungmin wishes he could press his palm to his cheek, pick the human up, and put him back together. No human should endure such pain, such loneliness, especially not at the hands of the Heavens. 

“That is for you to decide.”

Minho’s watery breaths fill the silence. A slight, shaking hand brushes against his cheek. “Do all angels look like this?” Minho trails his fingers into his hair, carefully brushing the strands from his eyes. “Dangerous…” Minho whispers. 

Seungmin takes the hand in his own. “Was yours dangerous?” 

Minho shuts his eyes tight. His jaw steels and whatever fight had been left within him is broken. “No…” He sighs. His eyes meet Seungmin’s, an apology leaves his lips, “I was.” 

Seungmin didn’t ask, and Minho didn’t tell. Rather, Seungmin stayed on the kitchen floor, holding the delicate hands within his own. As the danger fades, Seungmin feels more and more vulnerable. He is  _ seen _ . His human form is on open display to his human - something which should surely send him falling. He doesn’t worry, doesn’t consider it for any longer. 

He trusts Chan - even if, for some horrible reason, his human does not. 

Minho’s gaze makes him squirm. 

“Why are you pulling that face?” Minho asks. Seungmin swears to himself. Minho can actually  _ see _ him. 

“It’s strange being seen by a human,” He replies honestly. Minho’s face falters. 

“You should go back before someone sees you.”

“I won’t fall.” Seungmin says, reading the words on his lips. “I promised you as such.”

“You can’t promise that.” 

“It’s true.”

“Don’t promise it then.” 

“We’ve had this conversation before,” Seungmin says. 

Minho, in such a way that relaxes Seungmin’s nervous, laughs. “Your clothes suck.” 

Seungmin, offended, drops Minho’s hands and pulls at his robes. “What’s wrong with them? They’re standard uniform.” 

“Maybe if you angels didn’t go walking around dressed like, well,  _ angels _ , then maybe you could be visible without breaking the law. And  _ this _ -'' He taps on Seungmin’s gold fastening, heavy on his waist. “This can’t be comfortable.”

“Nothing is comfortable in this form,” Seungmin grumbles. It sends Minho laughing again. 

Eventually, they picked themselves off the floor. Eventually, Minho ate his dinner. Eventually, Seungmin found a way to sit on the couch, his wings phasing through them out of the human’s sight, much like his halo. Eventually, Minho is grumbling at him as normal, only now, making fun of his ‘stupid dinosaur face’ Seungmin makes when he’s offended - whatever that means. 

Seungmin forgets to drop his corporeal form.    
Although, he will say, seeing Minho cheer the following mornings at the sight of a human person rather than a blob floating in the sky makes Seungmin wonder - how on Earth could an angel be felled for causing such delight? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe... we will find some interesting things about Jisung out soon...... 
> 
> spare comment.... it will make me :)!


	6. 6.O' Han Jisung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is accidentally 11k long i didn't mean for this to happen
> 
> peep the rating change ...

_ The best thing about waking up with his angel is the ease of it all. It has never been so easy to wake up and face the day with dark hair tickling his nose, the purple halo catching the gold-silver glitter that dusts through his hair.  _

_ “Your hair is like the galaxies,” Minho says on starless nights, carding his fingers through the locks with a comforting familiarity.  _

_ “Can you see Sagittarius the Archer?” His angel asks.  _

_ “I think, here maybe-” Minho gently smooths over a part of the fringe, fingertips dancing along the scalp. When Minho lifts his hands, his fingers will be painted in the gold-silver shimmer. Then, prints will dust the apartment. The sill, the kitchen knives, the light switches, prints along the window’s glass, shimmers bouncing off from the television screen when the sun hits, particles of shimmer dancing through the air, reflective and golden in the holy glow of the sun’s rays. Smears of angel dust from his angel’s gentle hold on his face, handprints of gold on his neck, his chest, his thighs - all of him glittering with his angel’s essence. “Nevermind, it was just dandruff.” _

_ The easiest part of the morning is blinking his eyes open, knowing his angel is there, lying patiently by his side, awaiting his joining of the conscious world.  _

_ His angel.  _

_ His angel who lays with him through the night, not needing sleep, but wanting to keep Minho comfortable, to keep him safe. His angel who keeps his wings hidden on Minho’s request, who only brings his halo out in the morning for its light to ease Minho into consciousness.  _

_ Minho sighs into the bare shoulder beside him. A delicate hand bends awkwardly to stroke gentle ‘good mornings’ into his bedhead. The angel hums in his almost-true voice, powerful and gentle - the power to shatter the windows (like it had done once before, during a game of Just Dance that had gotten competitive and noisy), but so gentle, vibrating through the air enough to jump Minho’s heart into an eager rhythm. There, Minho presses a kiss into the shoulder which is twisted uncomfortable to card through his hair. He bites it, too.  _

_ His angel laughs, loud and bright. The heavens surely hear it ringing out - how could they not? “Stop that.”  _

_ “Make me,” He says, pressing himself into his angel, still unclothed from the night before. Naked as the day he was born, naked as the day his Angel wrote his future within a gentle touch of the cheek. His angel turns over in bed, he feels the warmth of his wings phasing through him. He sighs into his angel’s mouth.  _

_ Gold paints his mouth. _

_ Gold paints his neck, his shoulders, his waist, his thighs.  _

_ His fingers twine somewhere between Sagittarius the Archer and Andromeda the Princess. He feels the essence from his angel’s hands, holy warmth growing through his thighs. He pushes his angel down and breaths a hearty groan into the air. His angel rises, his holy face blotched red, the lips which speak the words of the heavens drooling with saliva and pre-salt.  _

_ “Who do you serve, angel?”  _

_ “I serve you. All my life, I will serve you.” _

_ == _

Seungmin stays with Minho at night more often, now. Although he has no need to lounge around the human’s apartment, waiting for Minho to join the life of the living, he does it anyway. He uses the time to pull the faded scroll from his robes and carefully tries to restore the ancient text. 

He works under the moonlight, perched on the sill, with the moon directing her benevolent light over his shoulder. 

He thanks her, and she smiles at him. 

Sometimes, he calls for Chan’s assistance, where Seungmin’s natural talent for the old language fails. Chan, as decent as he is, never asks the reason for Seungmin’s late-night requests for translations. Maybe Chan is just happy that Seungmin is practising his communication network. The translation is hard, moreso with the horrible condition of the scroll, but a part of Seungmin’s soul wills him to do this. Perhaps it will be important, perhaps it will be little more than a fledgling’s nursery story. 

Seungmin works late into the night, taking breaks from the scroll to record his logs for Chan - he doesn’t ask for them, but even so, it keeps Seungmin’s thoughts in place. He believes that he is making good progress with his human… but…

Always a but.

Nothing in Seungmin feels any closer to establishing a halobond. He recognises that he can do a decent job of guarding his human without it, but the glimpses into his soul every now and again are not enough to truly give Minho the help he so desperately needs. 

Documenting his day, using a human pen which is unreliable at best. His words fade in and out from inconsistency ink - why did humans stop using quills? Seungmin hears the familiar sounds of Minho turning in his bed. A gently rustling of blankets. And again. And again. Seungmin puts the pen down, and watches his human’s door. 

On his knees on the floor of his living space, journal and pen neat on the coffee table in front of him, Seungmin folds his hands onto his knees and listens. The familiar sounds of Lee Minho waking up disturbs the peace of the night. 

First, the gentle  _ thump _ of Lee Minho throwing his covers off of him, where they fall ungracefully to the floor. Then, the heavy sound of the human dragging himself out of bed. A glass of water being lifted from his bedside, and put back. Scuffling feet across the carpet, too tired to lift fully. Then, the sound of the closet opening, its hinge a gentle squeak. 

Lee Minho emerges from his bedroom with a bedhead uncharastically terrible enough to make Seungmin’s lip quirk up. His face scrunched and angry-looking as he grumbles with the ties of his dressing gown. Lee Minho looks angry when his sleep is disrupted, which happens infrequently - only twice when Changbin’s phonecalls interrupts one of his evening catnaps. A courteous ‘hello’ makes way for a groggy ‘who is it? What do you want?’. 

He hardly makes note of Seungmin, shuffling to the kitchen, in the pitch darkness, and opening the fridge. The light makes him huff, turning his head away to get used to the light before returning to face the contents of the fridge. He bends over, examining the contents blearily. “What should I have to eat?” 

Seungmin watches him fondly. Lee Minho, after his catnaps, always craves sugar. An interrupted deep sleep must have the same habits. “Strawberries,” Seungmin says. The way Minho eats strawberries intrigues him to the point where Minho usually eats them with his back to Seungmin to curb his staring. 

“I want something sweet-”

“-dipped in sugar.”

Minho claps his hands sharpy against the door of the fridge and hops in the air. Wordlessly, he takes the strawberries from the fridge and grabs his bowl of sugar from the countertop. Despite the performance and how he sways his shoulders pleasantly when he walks, he still pulls a sour face. He falls onto the couch.

The strawberries and the bowl of sugar balance on his chest. Seungmin perches his head in his hands and watches the ordeal. Minho sucks the strawberry into his mouth, holding the green of it, lips catching the tips of his fingers as the sheens the berry with his tongue, then he rolls the fruit in the sugar. Rolls is generous. He assaults the contents of the bowl with his strawberry, then pops the entire thing into his mouth, only to pick the green from his mouth after the fruit is gone. 

Peculiar. 

“Why are you awake?” Seungmin asks. Minho pulls a berry from his mouth. He blinks blearily at Seungmin as if he hadn’t known he was there.

“How did you get into my house?” He asks. 

“I broke in.” 

“Are you here to kill me?” He sugars the berry, transfixed on the process.

Seungmin shakes his fringe out of his eyes. “Seems a little anticlimactic to kill you whilst you’re eating a snack.” 

Minho makes an agreeable noise, then spits the leaf into his hand. He grabs a berry and jabs it at Seungmin’s direction. “You need a haircut, your fringe is too long, that’s why it’s getting in your eyes.”

Seungmin fights with his hair for a while longer, brushing it this way and that. “Angel’s hair doesn’t grow.” Seungmin misses Lee Minho placing the sugar bowl and rhe berries on the coffee table, only hearing the plastic container crinkle from where the grasp lifts and the plastic settles, the clink of the sugar bowl. The creaking from the aged couch springs. 

A hand cards through his hair. 

Seungmin pauses. As his fringe is pushed back, baring his eyes and forehead, Lee Minho is blinking at him with pleasant but sleepy eyes.

“Angel hair might not grow, but human hair does. If you’re in your human form for a long time, you’ll need regular haircuts. If you push it like this-” He runs a firm hand through his hair, forcing the hair to maintain its position. “-it will stay out of your eyes.”

“How do you know this?” 

Minho doesn’t answer his question, instead examines his hands, as though expecting to see something there. He doesn’t. Something wistful passes his face and he turns his gaze to the window. 

“The stars are bright tonight.” Seungmin hums in response. “Look at that star, it’s really bright.” Minho is squinting. He points to the night sky, but Seungmin was looking at his hand instead. A need to commit it to memory, to know his touch by sight alone. 

He feels a tug on his hair. “You’re not looking!” 

Seungmin follows his hand. The night is beautiful, the moon smiles down at him, the stars blink love letters to their loved ones in morse code. The clouds settle somewhere. Not here, not in the Busan sky, but somewhere in the world the clouds will be lying low, hugging the ground. 

“Do you see that constellation? The bright one, then those two little ones to the North and East of it?” Minho says. Seungmin hums. “What is it called?” He asks, eyes shining at Seungmin. “I used to know the name, but I’ve forgotten it.” 

“I don’t know. Look it up on your smartphone.” Seungmin helpfully hands Minho his smartphone from the couch, but he doesn’t take it, even when Seungmin nudges his hand with it. 

“You don’t know the stars?” He asks. “But - you live in the Heavens.” 

“You live on Earth, do you know the names of trees by sight? Flowers by scent? Bird by their song?” 

“No. Do you?” 

“Of course.” The moonlight paints Minho’s face with her brilliance. Cold tones reflecting the silver of his earrings, which flash with light when they dangle within her beam. The coolness of the night easing the swelling of his freshly-woken eyes. A grain of sugar sits on the fullest part of his lower lip. His lips stained ever so slightly pink from the berries. Minho’s eyes look back into his own at the lapse of conversation. He looks at peace like this, sleepy and vulnerable. “I know all of what you don’t, Lee Minho.”

“Do you know how microwaves work?” He asks, genuinely. Seungmin pauses.

“No,” He thinks desperately, his eyebrows furrowing. “No one does. The work of demons, most likely.” 

Lee Minho laughs at this, slapping Seungmin’s leg, disrupting the silk of his robes. “How are you to serve me if you don’t even know how microwaves work? What if my life hangs in the balance of fixing a broken microwave?” 

Seungmin halts the human’s hand, where the slapping had devolved into gentle patting, a rhythmic sound. “I am here to guide you, that much is true, I am here to bring your life to its full potential,” his tone catches the human’s attention. “But I don’t serve you. I serve the Heavens. Do you understand?” 

Minho’s face changing. There, something flutters in his eyes. He looks at Seungmin as though he is seeing him for the first time - mouth parted in a ‘o’. 

“I understand.” 

====

_ The cupboard door makes a loud sound when Minho shuts it. The cabbage in the frying pan sizzles angrily. Minho busies himself in the kitchen, noisey and firm with his movements as he does so. The salt slams on the table and the lid pops off. Minho closes his eyes and takes a deep, patient breath.  _

_ “What’s wrong, baby?” The angel gently takes the salt from his hands and pops the lid back on. He tries to tidy the salt from the table, but ends up leaving more angel dust in its wake.  _

_ “Nothing,” Minho lies. He pushes past his angel to pull some beansprouts from the fridge. He chops them harshly, much finer than they need to be. His angel perches his chin on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist and giving a squeeze.  _

_ “Hmmm,” His angel hums in his ear. The sound is typically pleasant, heartwarming even, but today it takes tremendous effort not to shrug the angel off his shoulders. “Can I cheer you up?” His angel presses kisses into the small of his neck. Warmth spreads through his skin where his angel’s lips meet his skin. He presses himself into his angel a little, a subconscious reaction by now to be close to him.  _

_ “I’m not in the mood.”  _

_ His angel stalls his chopping, a gentle hand resting on the index finger where it studied the spine of the knife. “Your vegetables are turning into a paste.”  _

_ “Please let me make my lunch.”  _

_ His angel tugs him gently, maneuvering his body so they are swaying chest-to-chest to the radio playing in the background. Minho puts his hands on the angel’s shoulder and gently pushes him away. _

_ “Come on, tell me what’s putting a frown on that face, it will give you wrinkles, you know?”  _

_ “I don’t want to talk about it.” He spies his angel peering meaningfully into his eyes, and just like his angel had taught him, he focused on the spark in his eyes, he focused on the feelings ruminating in his stomach, and closed it off. His angel held him at arm’s length with a serious frown. _

_ “Don’t do that…” _

_ “I’m allowed to feel things without you prying - is this not why you taught me to do this in the first place? Or am I only allowed to do it when it’s convenient to you?”  _

_ “If you’re upset you should talk about it, Minho,” His angels says.  _

_ Minho can’t. He’s had the conversation with his angel time and time again, another disagreement with Felix and Changbin, with harsh words spat between them. Their disagreements have been more cataclysmic as late, spanning from minor differences in opinion to hour-long arguments that take more and more time to heal over, the scar tissue growing thick and ugly over the already strained relationship.  _

_ They didn’t understand - they could never understand. They’re worried for him, but how can they truly claim to hold true worry if they refuse to even hear Minho’s point of view, if even to humour him? It frustrates him to no end, how his supposed friends care so little for his happiness, thinking only of their own idea of happiness. Their happiness may be to go out, party, meet up for coffees, go to college, develop a career, but Minho’s idea of happiness is to be right here, with his angel, the one person who will love him unconditionally no matter what.  _

_ “Please tell me,” His angel says, cupping his cheek. Minho wraps his fingers around the delicate wrist and presses a kiss into the palm.  _

_ “Respect my decision to say no.”  _

_ “It’s not healthy, and I know that it is about me-” _

_ “Angel.” _

_ Wide, endless eyes widen then fall respectfully to the floor. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be overbearing.” _

_ Minho presses a kiss into the mess of his angel’s hair, allowing his angel to shuffle closer into his arms. “It’s okay, I know you don’t.”  _

==

“Can you stop doing that.” 

“Doing what?” Minho snaps. He’s been pacing the living space for the better part of twenty minutes, furiously texting on his smartphone, his brow furrowed more than usual. 

“Pacing. It’s distracting.” 

“Okay, one: this is  _ my _ apartment, so I can do whatever I please,” He stops his pacing to cross his arms and glare at the angel. “Two: distracting you from  _ what?  _ Sitting on your ass?”

Seungmin points at the television, offended, “It’s the semi-final.” On the television, which Seungmin was floating  _ inches _ from, four bakers were struggling to pipe extravagant designs onto their delicate biscuits. 

Dramatically, Minho groans and flops onto the couch. Seungmin ignores him and tries to focus on the television, even amongst Minho’s dramatic sighing. Seungmin ignored the pillows that were thrown at his back, thumping heavily onto the floor.

A sharp pain shoots up his back and he whips round to see Minho’s phone lying on the floor where it had been thrown at Seungmin. “Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?” 

“No.” 

“Oi!” 

Seungmin paused the television. “Fine. What’s wrong.” 

“Can you  _ sound _ like you care?” 

Seungmin picks the phone up, making to throw it back at Minho, but his eyes catch on the chat log currently left open. Minho seems to recognise his error as soon as Seungmin realsies his opportunity. Minho jumps off the couch, but Seungmin is faster. He lets his wings out, bringing them out from being phased and hovers out of Minho’s reach. Minho jumps to try and snactch his phone back, to no avail.

“Oh - Changbin and Felix are coming over soon - that’s why you’re nervous?” Seungmin drops the phone into Minho’s grasp. He catches it with impressive reflexes. 

“He’s bringing his  _ boyfriend. _ ”

“Oh - and you’re anxious because you have an conventional life and you’re worried that he’ll judge you, or even worse, that Felix would have told him more than you would be comfortable with, meaning he has a background knowledge on you whereas you don’t. You like to have the upper hand, right?” 

Minho freezes, face falling into something unpleasant. “Don’t read me like that.”

“You were asking for attention.” Seungmin complains. His voice falls into the nasal territory like it tends to do when he’s annoyed. “It’s my job to read you like this.”

“Well I’m asking you to stop.” Minho’s fingers catch the tails of his robes and he tugs Seungmin to the ground. Minho’s pull is as light as a feather in comparison to the strength of the angel’s wings, but he lets himself be grounded nonetheless.

Seungmin lets Minho’s grip stay firm on his robes. He thinks maybe, maybe Minho needs grounding sometimes. “And I’m saying  _ no. _ ” Seungmin cuts Minho off when his mouth opens, “I can’t read your thoughts, your aura, or  _ anything _ because you’re closed off. I don’t know how you’re able to be closed off as you are - and I’ve been respectful enough not to ask. I have the right to read into your human expressions and follow some basic human psychology to try and help you, Lee Minho.”

Minho’s face sours. “You’re a shitty angel.” 

“I would be a shirtier one if I didn’t try to read you at all - if I listened to you.” 

“Am I not allowed to ask for privacy?” Minho reaches for the television remote and pauses the show, right before the announcement for the baker being sent home. Minho does this without seemingly even realising, going straight back to arguing. “Am I to live my life with you hanging over me?”

Seungmin, frustrated, gathered his robes into his hands and muffled a shout into them. He collected himself, smoothing the silk with tender hands. “We’ve had this conversation. I give you privacy in your bedroom and bathroom, more than any other angel would give.” Minho’s look falters, something flashes in discomfort. 

The room shifts into something a little colder, something uncomfortable hanging in the air.

“Did your last angel really give you all the space you asked for?” The silence is deafening. “That’s a terrible guardian angel.”

Now, Minho backs away, face falling. There’s regret there, some mourning. Mourning for a person, or a memory, perhaps. “Don’t. Don’t go there.” 

Minho retreats wordlessly and hastily to his bedroom and Seungmin switches the television off. He can watch his baking show later. 

====

_ “Well tell me, Minho - if your ‘guardian angel’ is here - get him to talk to us, then!” _

_ “It doesn’t work like that. If he does that he’ll fall.”  _

_ “We’re getting concerned - you’ve been cooped up here for so long, hyung.” Felix rests his head on Minho’s shoulder. He’s settled on Changbin’s bed, back to the wall, while Felix, who had been roused from his nap, makes himself comfortable against his friend’s side. Changbin is lounging at the other end of the bed, unimpressed with the conversation.  _

_ “We’ve been talking-” Felix starts. _

_ “About me? Seems to be a popular topic nowadays.”  _

_ “We think that you being cooped up on your own all day is messing with your head. This all started when you dropped out of college, you went from being outgoing, meeting up with friends every other day to just - locked away.” _

_ “I’m perfectly fine - I tell you this everyday. My word means so little?”  _

_ “You’re hallucinating,” Felix says. He’s petting Minho’s arm gently, like he’s a caged animal, about to lash out.  _

_ In the corner of the room, his angel sits uncomfortably on the floor, hidden from view of the others. His legs crossed, wearing one of Minho’s old hoodies. It's faded and worn in places, but his angel doesn’t mind - no one but Minho sees him, after all. Minho hated the robes. _

_ “I’m not hallucinating. He’s been with me since the day I was born - I remember his face, how could I have been hallucinating all these years?” _

_ “Mental illness can warp memories,” Changbin says. Minho hums and watches his angel toy with his shoes. He always had a thing for shoelaces, tying and untying them again and again, his bright eyes sparkling with interest. His face gets this… glow when he’s happy. Minho could watch his angel all day.  _

_ Changbin’s fingers snapping in front of his face tears his attention, “Huh?” He says, stupidly, in awe at the angel he gets to call his own.  _

_ “What are you looking at?” This catches his angel’s attention, who gives him a cheeky grin and wiggles his fingers. Minho stifles a laugh. Changbin looks to where his attention is drawn, obviously failing to see the heavenly Spector sitting there, adorably cross-legged.  _

_ “Sorry - he was pulling a face.”  _

_ Felix and Changbin share a look. Minho feels Felix sit up slightly from his shoulder, only to fall back into his space, nuzzling his head into Minho’s shoulder. _

_ “Minho, be serious-” Changbin says.  _ _  
_ _ “MiNhO, Be SeRiOuS,” His angel mocks.  _

_ Minho laughs - he can’t help it. “Stop, don’t do this right now-” Minho giggles, before apologizing for the outburst. _

_ “If you leave the house a little more, it will be good for you,” Changbin says. His breathing is controlled, clearly fighting back some type of outburst. Changbin never had much patience.  _

_ “I don’t need to - I need nothing but my angel.”  _

_ “Minho, we’re being serious…” Felix sighs into his shoulder, tired.  _

_ “I am being serious. He’s the only person I need in my life.” He feels Felix pull away from him, another long look between the two friends, “I didn’t mean-” _

_ “Are you so desperate for attention?” Changbin’s voice is quiet.  _

_ “It’s not for attention, he’s a part of my life - of my soul.” _

_ “Are you in love with him or something?”  _

_ His angel’s head pops up. He can feel the heavy stare.  _

_ “Something like that.” _

_ Felix pulls away from him, fully awake now. “Jesus, Minho,” He says.  _

_ His angel crawls up the bed. The blankets don’t shift under his weight as he crawls over to Minho. His head falls into his lap and when he smiles, Minho feels as though nothing else in life could truly matter. It takes all he can to not ravish his angel right here.  _

_ Changbin’s fists are flexing to try to calm himself. “So what? You and your hallucination play mario kart and go on dates or what?” _

_ Minho smirks. “We play Just Dance, actually.”  _

_ His angel laughs at the memory of the window. Minho cards his hands through his hair. To Felix and Changbin, his hand would be petting the air, but he ignores the looks. All he sees is his angel.  _

_ “You need professional help-” Felix’s hand stops Minho’s hand in its motions. The disruption causes Minho’s hand to phase through his angel’s forehead. His eyes cross adorably at the intrusion into his skull. Minho bites a smile. “You dropped out of college, Minho. You’re smart, you’re hardworking, this isn’t like you - surely you can see that?” _

_ “More time to spend with him,” Minho says, smiling at the ball of sunshine in his lap.  _

_ “Right? What do you do with all this time, then? Keeping in mind that I’ve been paying your rent since you dropped out.” Changbin asks. His eyes are judging. He’s watching Minho as though he’s minutes away from calling to get Minho carted away. Minho had rarely been on the receiving end of one of Changbin’s  _ looks _ \- and it’s none too pleasant. When he glances down, he can see pain on his Angels face - he is reading Changbin, he can feel how Changbin is thinking, how his distaste is rising. When his angel looks back at him, he shakes his head. _

‘It’s not good. I’m not going to repeat his thoughts, most of the sentence would be censored, the rest of it would turn my tongue sour.’

_ So - it’s like that is it? _

_ “We fuck.” Minho says. Eyes sparkling. Felix starts beside him. “All the time. In the bed, the shower, the couch, over the kitchen counters - sometimes we just go at it on the floor because we can’t even make it in time to get to a piece of furniture.” _

_ Changbin is up and storming to the door before anything else can be said. “You’re a delusional fucking slut.” He says, before spinning around and storming out of his own bedroom. The door rattles so hard from the force of being slammed that the fake cactus on his desk falls onto the ground and its pot shatters.  _

_ Felix presses his face back into Minho’s neck, even presses a kiss there. “If he didn’t love you so much, I think this would have been the breaking point.” With that, Felix gets up, gives a sad smile, and goes to find his friend to clear his head before he lashes out any more. _

_ Minho rarely lets his Angel take him - but today he needs it. Minho didn’t even let his Angel fully phase back into his corporeal form before he’ trying to drag him into a violent kiss, biting lips and within minutes, the two are as they should be: indistinguishable but as one, brutal, horrible creature.  _

_ “Call me a slut.” _

_ “I-” His angels stops his motions, his rough thrusts. Minho wraps his legs around his waist and kicks, smearing his angel’s essence over his inner thighs. “I can’t-” _

_ “Call me a slut. Do it.” Minho attempts to get his angel to resume his pace - to fill him up, to paint his essence all over his body, to have his body shimmering with his angel’s marking. This Is My Human, it says. And he is. He will always be.  _

_ “Minho-” He pulls Minho’s legs down, gently caressing the cheek of the human he fell so desperately in love with. “You’re nothing like that - you’re not-” _

_ Minho’s hands curl into his hair and yank painfully. “Do it or I’ll rip the halo from your head,  _ angel. _ ” _

_ “You’re a slut.” The thrusts resume, unsure and stagnated.  _

_ “Say it properly.”Minho pulls harder, using the grip as leverage to fuck himself back on the cock filling his insides. _

_ “You’re a slut.”  _

_ “Say it like you fucking mean it-”  _

_ “You’re a nasty slut-” The pace increases, Minho’s back arches from the ground, but it’s not enough. He wants to feel debauched, he doesn’t need sex, he doesn’t even need fucked - he needs  _ used.

_ “ANGEL-” Minho’s voice is sharp, just like the slap that rings out from where Minho’s hand collides with the pudge of his angel’s unblemished, glowing cheek.  _

_ The angel grabs Minho, unsheaths him from his cock, and forces him onto his knees, praying to the heavens. His cock is forced back into Minho rough and perfect. Minho’s face is forced into the carpet, where Jisung grips him by the nape of the neck, as if leading an animal to its pen. The pace is brutal, unforgiving. Minho screams into the carpet from the feeling of his angel rearranging his guts.  _ _  
_ _ He fucks him like he hates him.  _

_ Minho tries to grind his cock onto the floor, but his Angel pulls him up, and up, and up, until Minho is on his knees with his back flush against his Angel’s front like a stuck pig, broken, harsh breathing and yelps being fucked out of him. His angel reaches his face and squeezes his cheeks roughly, muffling his moans into incomprehensible garbling. _

_ “You’re a filthy slut. You don’t care about your friends, you don’t care about anything apart from my cock, right? You’ll happily throw away and ruin your life as long as you get to sit here and get your pretty little hole destroyed, right Minho?”  _

_ “Fuck-” Minho groans desperately, all the more when his words are muffled with his angel’s fingers forcing their way into his mouth, pushing as far back into his throat as he can. Minho immediately bobs, gagging and groaning desperately on those holy fingers. Can you find God in Minho’s throat? If you fuck hard enough into his hole, will the Heavens reveal their secrets? _

_ “Do you even love me, Minho? Or did you just realise how easy it would be for me to fall for you, keep me locked away as your personal sex toy. Am I anything more than a hole to keep your cock warm, a warm throat to fuck, a cock to ride?” Minho tries not to scream as his angel pleasures him so well. So bad. It hurts so bad, please Angel, please don’t stop, make it hurt, make it painful. _

_ “Do you love me, Minho?” His Angel presses his hand tenderly to the side of his cheek, and brutalizes his hole, “Or do you just love how good I fuck you?” _

_ Minho comes so hard he loses consciousness for a moment. When they are cleaned up, neither of them mentions how his Angel was able to swear so freely without being censored. Neither of them acknowledges it - instead, Minho lets his angel eat him out until he cries into the pillow.  _

_ == _

Seungmin is so close to finalising the scroll he had found. It was long-winded and read more like a piece of experimental pondering, or perhaps a dramatic letter, which only made it even harder to translate it into modern angel speak. 

The breeze ruffles through his hair from the open window. Even though the wind is chilly, Seungmin misses the feeling of the Earth’s healing breezes and sun beams on his form - human or otherwise. He needs not to push his fringe from his eyes, however, as some nights ago, Minho grew tired of the angel’s constant fiddling with his fringe, and sat him on the toilet seat with a soft towel around his neck to prevent the hairs getting all over his robes, and trimmed his hair. It looked little different than it had done before, a little neater with a more purposeful shape. 

Seungmin kicks his legs from where he sits on the sill. There isn’t much room, and it hurts his butt - but it gives him the best view of the outside world, peaking out at all the little ant-people all those floors below. 

“It’s  _ freezing,  _ close the window,” Minho comes out of the bathroom, hair wet and currently being towel-dried. 

Seungmin huffs. “I haven’t been out in the fresh air in a long time,” He says. “My wings are aching…” He adds as an afterthought. 

“Go for a walk then.” 

“I’m not to leave you alone.” 

“What-” Minho leans into the sill and teeters his upper half out of the window. Seungmin - eyes not lifting from his scroll - pulls him back from the scruff of his shirt. “Do you think I’m going to jump?”

“Maybe.” Seungmin says, he doesn’t think he would - it may be sour to say, but if Minho was going to end his life he would have done so by now. 

Minho gives him a cat-like smirk and slinks away to his bedroom, probably to dry his hair. 

With a sigh, Seungmin allows himself a few minutes to leave his human form, to phase from human gaze to float contently in the gentle cradle of the breeze. He pushes the window a little: still open, but closed a little more to prevent the apartment from growing cold. He leaves his scroll on the sill in the meantime, letting the wind gently rock him back and forth. It’s a cool breeze, he can feel how it ruffles his feathers, although he takes care to make sure they are flattened back into their rightful place. 

He thinks of Jeongin - is his training improving? It would cheer him immensely to visit the Heavenly gardens  _ without _ hearing the fledgling throwing himself into the glass of the greenhouse like a stubborn bumblebee. Hyunjin is a good teacher, although his patience is a little to be desired, training Jeongin is a trial of patience the best of times. The last Seungmin heard from his friend was some days ago, when he called through the network to Seungmin in a panic because he looked away from his human for a moment and she had eaten, quote ‘an incomprehensible amount of worms’.

The window creaks open, and Minho’s squinting face peeks out. “What are you doing out here?” He asks, although his eyes fail to fall directly on Seungmin’s form, likely the rays from the sun and the breeze which is rocking Seungmin to and fro making it difficult to nail his distorted outline. 

_ ‘I’m enjoying the outdoors. It’s astonishing what a little fresh air and sun can do for the soul.’ _

“Are you an angel or a houseplant?” 

_ ‘If I was a houseplant I would probably see the sun  _ more _ than I do now.’ _

Minho huffs, eyes still trying to pin Seungmin’s form. The angel moves closer to Minho, close enough for the distortion to be a little more obvious. When Minho notices him, suddenly less than a foot from the tip of his nose - he starts. “Fine. Come on. Get out of your blob form.” 

_ ‘This is closer to my angel form - it’s insulting to call me a blob.’ _ He follows Minho into the apartment, feet catching his weight when he lets his human form wrap around his natural state, falling from the air. The carpet soft, albeit worn beneath his bare feet. 

Seungmin gets an armful of clothes thrown in his face. “Put these on.” He tries to examine the clothes, but every time he tries to pull an item from the pile in his arm, something else falls. Minho laughs at him, not unkindly. Eventually, Seungmin gives up, unfolding his arms and letting the clothes fall to the floor. He pulls the gold belt from his waist, his silks unravel, they slip from his shoulders, unfold from his chest, before slipping any lower, Minho slaps a hand over his eyes.

“Hey!! What are you doing?! Do you have no sense of decency?” With his eyes still covered, he blindly grapples for the silks on the floor and thrust them back into Seungmin’s hands. “Don’t get  _ naked _ right in front of me.”

Seungmin looks at his naked form, “My human form is perfectly average - maybe a little more wide-shouldered than most-” 

“Go put on clothes, please,” Minho whines and flops dramatically onto the couch face-first. “My eyes will never recover.” 

Seungmin gets most of the clothes on okay - but he struggles with the buttons of a shirt. The jeans were uncomfortable, he wasn’t used to having his legs covered as such, it was strange to feel his skin rub against harsh denim rather than his own skin, or the silver-threaded silk of his robes. These must be old clothes, Minho rarely wears much besides sweatpants and too-big t-shirts. Sometimes hoodies, now that the weather is growing chillier. Surprisingly, they fit, although the waist of the jeans felt a little tight, it was nothing dissimilar to the tight fastening of his belt. Minho is smaller waisted and chested than Seungmin’s human form. 

After a long, long time of struggling, Seungmin says, in his soft achingly human voice, “Minho, I need help, please.” 

Minho carefully peeks from behind his fingers and breaths a relieved sigh. “With what? Wait...the buttons?” 

“I haven’t practised my human fine motor skills in a while.” He explains. He walks towards the human and drops himself beside him on the couch, holding his top button and its hole out for Minho to do for him. 

Minho rolls his eyes, “You’re like a toddler,” He says thoughtfully. He takes the bottom button instead. “You button from the bottom, that way you don’t miss any buttons. His deft fingers make quick work of the shirt, pushing the angel’s hands from the top buttons. “You don’t button the top one.”

“Why is it there, then?” 

“To make people feel cooler for leaving it unbuttoned, I guess.” He fixes the collar. “There you go, kid.”

“I’m over 400 years old.” Seungmin pulls the sweater over his head and ruffles his hair back into place from where it got disheveled. The sweater hands loose on him, his hands becoming swamped in the sleeves and the neckline reaching the mid-point of his shoulders. 

“Let’s get you some cod liver oil from the store then, old man.” 

Seungmin, while sitting in a small cafe, grocery bags from a nearby corner store between his and Minho’s feet, watching Minho sip at a mocha, yelling into his cup when it’s hotter than expected, ruffles his feathers.

_ ‘Do you trust me with Lee Minho? All I do is for the greater good?’ _

_ ‘Of course, Seungmin,’  _ Chan replies instantly, from somewhere half-way across the world most likely.  _ ‘Do you need any assistance?’ _ A beat of concern passes through the network.

_ ‘No, your support is assistance enough, thank you.’ _

Minho led Seungmin from the apartment, eyes shooting up from the maps on his phone which was narrating their directions for a nearby store and to the road in front of him furiously. Seungmin was… nervous. An odd feeling to feel, and definitely not a pleasant one. He was breaking every single rule the Heavens had ever drafted, just to follow his human to the store to pick up some banana shampoo that the delivery service he orders from doesn’t stock.

The streets of Busan are more enamouring up close. The countless people walking past, paying no mind to the angel amongst them, the smell of the street vendors, handing out fish-shaped bread. The neon lights from the stores, the motels, the game cafes, all of it a wonderful, neon technicolour dreamscape. 

If the Heavens were natural colours, greens of the grass, the shimmering blue of the rivers, then the human world was the neon reflecting from Minho’s dangling earring every time they passed a store. Flashes of pink, blue, yellow… every brush with colour a glimpse into the true underbelly of the human world. Short, bright, and lingers when its gone as the colours glow their hues into Minho’s face, until they are long past the sign. 

Seungmin finds the littlest things of humans endearing. The baking show is one, despite being a competition, the contestants rush to help each other, they all want to win, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they want the others to lose. He likes the packaging on Minho’s noodles - a cute little creature designed on the front. Minho had kindly let him study the packet for a long time when he was making his dinner. Now, Seungmin finds the way humans line all their items in neat little rows in stores incredibly endearing. The little flavoured milk boxes all pushed flush against each other, the pink cartons running into yellow, then white, then brown. 

Minho does his shopping and buys his items while Seungmin admires the endearing display of human charm. Minho grabs the strawberry milk from the shelf and buys it. When he pulls Seungmin out of the store, he pushes the milk into Seungmin’s hand. “I can’t eat human food.”

“Just because you  _ don’t _ doesn’t mean that you  _ can’t. _ ” 

Seungmin stares at his carton of strawberry milk, sizing it up. Minho’s eyes are heavy on him, although not judgemental. He swears at his coffee for being too hot,  _ again _ . He moves onto the croissant he’d bought with Changbin’s card. The cafe is quiet, a small one some alleyways behind the store they had been to. Minho had simply searched for cafes and chose the nearest one, dragging Seungmin along. (Although, Seungmin  _ will _ admit - he was holding tight onto the tail of Minho’s coat, the only familiarity in this strange newly human world). 

“So you never leave the house?” Seungmin asks. Minho’s map application randomly announced to the entire cafe that they had arrived at their destination some four minutes after  _ actually _ arriving. Minho fumbled with the buzzer to silence it, although there was no doubt the other three people in the cafe had heard - they paid no mind. 

“Not really,” He says. He speaks through his croissant. Seungmin scrunches his nose at the pastry flake that flew from his mouth. 

“Why? It’s unusual.”   
“None of your business~” He sing-songed. This was a standard flow of conversation by now. Sometimes Minho snapped the response, but recently he had grown more agreeable, even playful in his responses. Once he responded by puckering his lips  _ ‘Give me a kiss and I’ll tell you’. _

Seungmin’s flat stare eggs him on. 

“I like staying inside - I have all I could need there.” 

“Inside doesn’t have butter croissants.” Seungmin points out. Minho laughs - the distinct  _ ha ha ha’s _ loud in the cafe, but Seungmin finds himself not caring. Minho shifts sharply in his chair and slaps his thigh. 

“You make a good point, Angel.” He says. 

_ Angel. _

Seungmin takes the carton of strawberry milk into his hands. He traces his finger over the delicate little cartoon strawberry with its googly eyes and bright smile. The little flaps at the side and how they tuck in to achieve the perfect box-shape. It’s relentlessly endearing. He picks it up to examine the underside - and to his  _ delight, _ the strawberry’s eyes jiggle. Seungmin laughs excitedly and hops in his seat - it was the sweetest example of humans’ adoration for the little joys in life - the little smiles that just add a little bit of brightness to someone’s day.    
“Look, Minho!” He points at the cartoon and shakes the carton, “It has googly-eyes!” 

Minho curls his chin into his palm, looking peaceful to watch Seungmin giggle over his milk carton. “Yeah, you like it?”

“I love it!” Seungmin can  _ feel _ his eyes burning with essence, and forces himself to calm down a fraction. Minho is smiling at him in amusement with his box-shaped smile. “How on Earth can you stay cooped up all day when little joys like this exist in their millions, every day, scattered all across the globe, waiting for you to come along just to give you a little spark of delight, if even for a second.” 

Minho hums. He bites the tip of his pinky finger, takes it out to tap contemplating on his lip. “Just to visit the grocery store?” 

“Or to visit sights with Changbin and Felix - they come the whole way down to Busan to see you yet have not seen any of it outside of the walls of the apartment. Or exercise! I see so many humans running down the road outside your window, it would be kinder for your lungs than breathing in regurgitated breath during your workouts.” 

“Doesn’t your halo act as an air filter?” 

“Just a cursing filter, I’m afraid.” 

“Is there any swear word you wish you could-”

“Count. C-U-N-T. Count.”

“You can spell it but not speak it?”

“If God was literate then he would have written the Old Testament himself instead of hiring a bunch of nobodies to do it.”

Minho takes several minutes to calm down from laughing. When he does, he decides to document the moment for his friends. He takes a picture of his half-eaten croissant and his latte - Seungmin is there, fiddling with the wrapped straw of his strawberry milk with interest, although he is out of focus, features blurry and hardly recognizable. 

**Lee Minho: [IMG:14203_CAFE_BRITTANY.PNG]**

**Lixie: oh my GOD.**

**Lixie: MINHO!**

**Binnie: Minho? Outside?**

**Lee Know: I leave the house every Tuesday**

**Binnie: yeah. Get the bus, go to therapy, go straight home, right?**

**Lee Know: still counts.**

**Lixie: forget about THAT** **  
** **Lixie: who is THIS** **  
** **Lixie: [IMG:MYSTERYDATE.PNG]**

**Lee Know: that’s just pixels**

**Binnie: Is this your “friend”?**

**Lixie: Take a proper photo of him! Please!! I want to see him!!**

**Lee Know: Send a picture of your boyfriend first**

**Lixie: [IMG:ZOO_NOV_15.PNG]**

**Lixie: :^)**

**Binnie: That’s a hamster**

**Lee Know: Ugly cat but ok**

**Lixie: Nooooo** **  
** **Lixie: It’s a Quokka! And this is** **_exactly_ ** **what he looks like :D!** **  
** **Lixie: You’ll see in 2 weeks Minho!!**

**  
** **Lee Know: he’s hairy?** **  
** **Lee Know: gross, Felix**

**Lixie: T T you’re so cruel to me**

**==**

_ “Angel, you’re all I need, I don’t need anyone else. I can live without my friends and family. All my life is yours.” _

_ “But - no. You’re destined for more, Minho-” _

_ “Can I not tell my own fate? Can I not decide? I was made from your essence, correct?” _

_ “So they say.” _

_ “Then tell me, angel,” He pauses, “How could a life with only you, my destined other half, be bad? Why would I need anything else? All I need is you.” _

_ “You’re destined for more, Minho.”  _

_ “Do you not want me?” _ _  
_ _ “Minho - I would do anything for you. If you asked me to pluck the galaxies from the sky, I would make it happen. To spend my life with you is more than I could ever ask for. It’s almost too good, Lee Minho. Like when you add too much sugar to your coffee - the sweetness is good, but overpowering.” _

_ “You would get sick of me? I doubt that.” _

_ “You’re destined for more than a life with me, Minho. I’m only here to guide you.” _

_ “How about-” A kiss, “you start-” A kiss, “by guiding me to the bedroom? I can almost hear your True Voice without getting hurt, angel. I want you to come so hard you set all the car alarms in the street off.” _

_ Two glorious creatures, one of holiness, one decidedly not, merging into one horrible mix of bite and love. Sweat drips from the angel’s brow. Swears fall from his lips. His wings phase without needing to be told to. His halo hovers somewhere invisible above his head. With tears in his eyes, sparkling with reflections of his lover, it almost feels like it could be real.  _

_ “Are you going to pull out?” His angel’s voice is positively  _ sinful _ from the harsh moaning. _

_ “I am made from your essence, I want to return the favour.” His angel comes undone on his cock. Minho keeps going, abusing his angel’s prostate, chasing his pleasure, chasing the desire to see his angel thoroughly fucked, unable to do anything but moan and cry his name. Four and a half minutes of abuse later, the Angel comes so hard the glass of water on the bedside table shatters and the lights blow.  _

_ “I love you, Minho.” He says _

_ “I know you do, it’s in your contract.” _

_ The angel opens his legs to let his human clean him - to care for him. “Our ties are no longer guard and human - they’ve changed. The ties are romantic now.” He sounds sad. Minho presses a kiss to his knee.  _

_ “Is that so bad?”  _

_ “Do you love me, Minho?” _

_ “I would give up everything I own for you, angel.” Minho cleans the come from his angel’s stomach. The rag gets thrown in the direction of the washbasket.  _

_ “Is that love?” The angel lets Minho thread their fingers together.  _

_ “Is it not?” Minho asks, genuinely curious. “You’re my everything.” _

_ The angel makes space for Minho to fall into the blankets beside him. “Minho,” The angel says quietly, tugging at something in the air, between the two that Minho can’t see. “I don’t think this story has a happy ending.” _

  
  
  


**===**

The story goes like this:   
  


O’ Holiest of Angels, O’ Gentil One

You screwed up.

The instructions were plain, you were to look after him.   
Oh, but no instructions told you how to look away.

How could you look away,   
When his smile is so benevolently kind and   
inviting that it feels like coming home?

O’ but Angel, have you forgotten,   
you are Holy.   
And he is deniably Not.

O’ but Angel, lest ye forget your place,   
you are to be neither seen nor heard   
and ye should definitely not be heard   
praying to those you vouched to protect. 

O’ Holy Angel, made of the Sun,   
what will She do with you now?   
You love him.   
And not in the way Angels are to Love all    
our creatures.

You love him   
as the honeybee loves the flower,   
and as the flower loves it back.

The honeybee loves and loves   
As the flower loves   
As the honeybee drowns in honey.

O’Holy Angel,

to love is in your nature,   
but to Love is decidedly that of humans.

O’ Angel - what will you do   
when love becomes a Habit rather than a revelation.

When your holiness    
is the very root of your sin? 

They say   
every love is an invention   
but angel,    
Now you know it is a destruction.

O’ Holiest of Humans, O’Lover   
You swore to protect.   
What do you do when He takes your bumblebee   
And drowns himself in your honey.   
When you offer a sliver of light   
And he swallows the Sun?

And they say only angels Burn.

O’ Holiest of Angels, O’ Human One

The heavens weep whilst   
Ye fall.   
When you hit the ground   
you will be missed more than remembered.

But as you look at his beautiful face,   
with his gilded lips shifting upwards into a    
wicked grin

You understand why bees die after stinging,    
But   
The human will never understand   
Why the bee stings in the first place.

Maybe if you say, ‘Icarus lost his wings’   
they will pretend to understand.

Seungmin is lying on the floor, wearing a pair of pajamas on his bottom and only a blanket on his front, tucked deftly under his spread wings. He needed to stretch them, and he can’t do so with a shirt on. Minho doesn’t ask for the scroll to be repeated where Seungmin had said it aloud. 

Rather, he lies on his back, opposite Seungmin, his head in the space beside his head and his shoulder. If Seungmin turns his head, he could whisper into his ear - he could see his reflection in the gold of his earring. Seungmin thumps his wings against the floor as a warning when Minho shuffles too close.

“You take your wings out a lot,” Minho says. His voice is an echo of his past. He’s living in the past more than the present as he lies with his angel. 

“It hurts to keep them hidden all the time.”

“I didn’t know that.” He swallows. Seungmin waits for his human. He waits for him to be ready. 

The scroll, to Seungmin, feels weighty in his hand. He understands now why an angel is to trust their instincts. Here, with his human fighting back tears, eyes red and heart - heart so decidedly  _ open. _ Purple bleeds into the living space, gentle and anxious. Seungmin sees it searching - searching for its halo. In time, my dearest sapling. In time. 

Minho’s soul is beautiful. Seungmin can see it in the reflections of his tears, where Minho is pretending desperately not to see Seungmin’s prying gaze.  _ ‘I will take it. I see its fragility, you needn’t trust me, human. You needn’t like me. All I ask is that you be brave, and stupid, and wreckless, and let me cup your damage in my hands. Let me raise you from ruin, let me push you forward.’ _ His grey, heavy halo shifts its balance. Soon, it says. Soon. 

“I used to ask him to hide them.” He whispered. The pain is tangible. Seungmin can see it in the air, thick enough for Seungmin to grab, scrunch up and throw into the deepest depths of the oceans. This pain should not have happened, but it needs to dissipate in its own time. “I hated being reminded that he wasn’t human.” 

_ That he could never really be mine. _

Seungmin hears the whispers of his thoughts in his breath. Seungmin feels his gut twist, his heart jump. Angels are not known for skinship - even amongst the other angels, Seungmin was not one for skinship, with the exception of bothering the fledgling. Yet he wants nothing more than to wrap his human in his arms. 

“He must have cared about your opinion a lot.”

“I don’t remember what his wings look like.”

_ I don’t remember what  _ he _ looks like. _

“Some feathers are speckled, some white, like mine, some darker. Hyunjin’s have a nice gradient on his feathers from white to a soft brown. They say each feather is unique to their angel - like a fingerprint.” 

Minho turning to him, their faces so close, makes Seungmin’s overworking mind stop. His sharp nose inches from his own. His soul bared, honest, broken, and so, so,  _ so beautiful. _

“Can I touch them?” 

Seungmin, taken aback, chokes out his response: “Your hands are dirty. You lay down half way through cleaning the oven.” 

“You were telling me a story, I wanted to listen.” 

“You should finish cleaning the oven.”   
Minho smiles at him, “You’d think you’d take up some chores - all you do is lounge around all day.”

“Hey! Do you think the laundry magically folds itself-” Minho laughs at Seungmin’s face and his dinosaur voice for the nth time since Seungmin stepped into his human form. When Seungmin presses himself up with his hands - he sees Minho’s eyes trailing up his sternum, dipping into his collarbones. 

O’Angel...

====

_ His angel watches him with sad eyes, perched on the back of the sofa like a robin red breast as Minho skims through the channels, trying to find something to watch.  _

_ “What do you want to watch?” Minho asks. There had been a new drama out that his angel seemed interested in the other day…  _

_ “Changbin called you earlier.”  _

_ “He did.” _

_ “You ignored it.” _

_ “You use your angel mind-reading powers for that?” _

_ “You should apologise to him.” His angel’s hand runs comfortingly through his hair. Minho leans into it. _

_ “I didn’t do anything.” _

_ “You’ll lose him if you’re not careful, swallow your pride, my love.” _

_ “Angel.” Minho sighs. “Enough.”  _

_ “Even Felix was angry. He  _ never _ gets angry. You don’t have any scale of their worry for you like I do, Minho-” _

_ “They think I’m schizophrenic,” He bites. His angel’s hand drops from his hair. _

_ “So what? They think you’re mentally ill and they’re worried-” _

_ “As long as I have you, I’m perfectly fine..” His angel hates it when he avoids the topic, but his angel never gets mad at him. _

_ “You need them more than you need me, Minho.” _

_ “Don’t you fucking say that.” He sits up. “Don’t you dare.” He shouts. _

_ “It’s the truth.” The angel’s voice is soft, it calms him. It pleases him. It draws him in, like a bear to honey.  _

_ “If I kiss you hard enough, will I seal your mouth shut?” _

_ Minho makes to kiss him, shooting up from his sitting position on the couch, but his angel is faster. He flips off of the couch and hovers in the air - just out of his human’s reach. _

_ “I’m being serious here.” His angel is so cute when he frowns. _

_ “If you’re so serious make yourself visible in their company. Prove to them I’m not insane.” _

_ His angel floats sadly to the floor, looking at his feet. “I’ll fall. I can’t do that.” _

_ Minho grabs him by the shoulders and presses a firm kiss to his mouth. His angel takes moments to remember to kiss back. “You said that the first time I saw you. The first time we played tag together when I was little. The first time we kissed in my college dorm room. The first time I sucked your dick.”  _

_ “You’re  _ my _ human.” It sends shivers up Minho’s spine. “Changbin and Felix are public domain - if I break an angel code with  _ them _ , my superiors will be notified straight away. Don’t look at me like that - nothing gets past Bang Chan.”  _

_ “Then I am not making up with them, not when I have you.”His angel, frustrated, pulls his own hair. Minho takes those hands and cards them in his own hair, “Pull mine instead,” He says, whispering sins into the mouth of a Holy creature. _

  
  
  


_ == _

Seungmin was  _ trying _ to drink his strawberry milk. It had been mocking him in the fridge for the better part of two weeks, the countdown until it sours getting shorter and shorter. It’s difficult. He has to close his windpipe, open his gullet, constrict his throat muscles, all the while keeping his mouth shut. But he can’t drink it  _ too _ fast - or he won’t taste it!

He wonders how Minho can drink a full family-sized bottle of apple sparkling water in one sitting without his brain taking off into space.

The problem is that his human is being  _ incredibly _ loud on the phone. Seungmin tries to give him space when talking to his friends on the phone, staying in the living space while Minho paces in his room. But today, Minho was  _ loud _ \- not angry, sometimes Minho just wakes up loud. His feet stomp louder than usual, his quiet yawn taking place for a hound-like scream of a thing. Today was one of those days.

“I’m not letting you and your boyfriend take my bed, get a motel!”

Seungmin shakes his head and tries again. His eyes cross to keep an eye on the straw - otherwise it pokes him in the gum. Okay - suck by creating a vacuum in the mouth- Seungmin spits out the milk. Okay - way too fast. Slower. 

“Oh, ‘ _ we’re’ _ broke college students? So he’s a college boy, too?” 

Seungmin sighs and tries again. This time was a little more successful, he managed to  _ taste  _ it and oh my gosh - wasn’t it heavenly? Hedonism may be frowned upon in the Heavens, but Seungmin can certainly see the appeal.

“He’s ‘working his way up to college’? So he’s a drug dealer.”

Seungmin tried again, trying to replicate the same motions as before-

“Well maybe if he  _ was _ a drug dealer you could afford a ratty motel for the weekend!!” Minho’s volume shocks him enough to accidentally inhale the strawberry milk. It takes a considerable effort to override his body’s human instincts and remind it that ‘ _ hey, you’re an angel - you can’t actually choke to death’ _ and just like that - the pandemonium settled. 

Except…

His strawberry milk fell over, all over the coffee table. Seungmin sighs, saying a silent prayer to Hyunjin,  _ ‘Please let there be more strawberry milk in my future.’ _

_ ‘THIS IS JEONGIN. YOU’RE WEIRD.’ _

Seungmin flattens his feathers grumpily. Stupid network. He tosses the oppressively cute carton in the trash and uses a wad of kitchen paper to clean the milk from the table. He accidentally leaves behind some gold-silver dust from when he had been coughing up a lung. 

“You’re not getting my bed! I don’t like random freaks in my bed - or his drug-dealing boyfriend.” 

Seungmin really wanted to try that strawberry milk - if Minho wanted true privacy in his conversation, he’d be a little quieter. Seungmin storms down the hall and throws open his bedroom door, he catches Minho, lying upside down on his bed, his hair tickling the carpet - now looking very confused.

“What are you-”

“I was trying to drink my strawberry milk.”

“I - okay?” 

“I spat it out everywhere.” 

“What are you - Felix, give me a minute.” He covers the microphone of his phone with his hand, even though that really doesn’t do anything with moden phones. “What in god’s name are you talking about?”

“You’re talking so loud you distracted me when I was trying to swallow and the milk went everywhere - I can see you trying not to laugh, are you a fourteen year old?” 

“Oh my god -” Minho bangs the back of his head repeatedly on the frame of his bed, “I’ll buy you more fucking strawberry milk - now leave.”

Seungmin blinks, his ruffled feathers settling. He sees Minho trying not to laugh. He always finds it funny that his feathers bulk up when he’s mad like a cat. It’s a defense mechanism - although Seungmin fears whatever considers  _ angels _ their prey. Minho will buy him another gift? 

“You will?” 

“YeeeEEESS.” Minho raises this to a high-pitched scream, “Now get out of my room!” 

Seungmin is about to turn to leave when he hears, through the little tin-rattle of the phone-  _ “Oh! Is that your friend! Tell him I said hello - can I meet him tomorrow, please? Pretty please?!”  _

Minho brings the phone up to his mouth, but Seungmin, still a little upset about his milk, boosts his voice directly into the receiver.

“Hi, Felix!” Minho jumps up on the bed and desperately tries to move the phone out of Seungmin’s sound-waves - which isn’t the way it works. “I have a spare blow-up bed I can lend to Minho. He’ll be happy to share it with Changbin while you and your boyfriend take his bed.”

“Like  _ fuck _ I will-” 

“Oh, you want to share  _ your _ bed with Changbin?” Minho stills. Felix laughs down the receiver.

_ “You’ll have to burn the sheets after he sleeps in them.” _

“I’ll be burning anything you and your boyfriend  _ touch _ , you’ll probably pull over the car on the trip down here to fuck in a truckstop.”

Felix is silent for a moment.  _ “We actually haven’t… done anything like that. He wants to take things slow.” _

Minho blinks at Seungmin and begs him not to do it. Seungmin does it. “Great! So Minho can give you his bed, and he can share the air mattress with Changbin - it will make Felix’s boyfriend feel accepted, Minho - don’t pull that face.” Minho hits him in the arm. He wasn’t making a face. 

_ “Aww - thank you so much! Hey, why don’t you come along too? Me and Changbin are really excited to meet you… uh…-” _

What’s the harm? He looks at Minho, his face brushed with a yellow glow. His purple swirls happily, even if his face is turned in a frown… there is anticipation in his eyes. 

“Seungmin. My name is Seungmin.” He says this more to Minho than Felix, although Felix continues to chatter in his ear. Minho’s eyes flicker from Seungmin’s eyes to his halo, which he holds his gaze on. 

“You spit your strawberry milk out and suddenly you’re telling me your God-Given name?” Minho asks after a quick goodbye with Felix, with a bated ‘I love you I’ll text you later’. 

“Who said it was my God-Given name?”

“Is it?” 

“No,” He says honestly. “My God Given name is in a language you can’t speak - Kim Seungmin is my human name.” 

Minho stares at him the way he stares at the constellations. “Kim Seungmin,” He says. Seungmin’s name feels meaningful coming from him. 

O’Angel…. 

==

_ When Minho awakens to the languid afternoon light and the sound of the garbage men outside, he reaches for his angel. _

_ His angel is there, and he grips him with weak arms. “My love?” His angel whispers. The voice is momentous.  _

_ “Not today.” _

_ “It has to be today.” It had to be today. Minho knew this. He could feel it too.  _

_ “Can I have one more kiss?” _

_ “I’m sorry, Minho.” The angel says. He presses a kiss to his human’s cheek. Then, he takes his halo, and with a blinding admission of divine strength, snaps it in two.  _

_ His angel had just enough time to press a rough, desperate kiss onto his mouth, before a heavy flap of wings sounded through his bedroom window.  _

_ “Chan - I’m sorry, I-”  _

_ And just like that. All was silent. Bang Chan swooped his Angel out of his life forever. His Angel who willingly surrendered. _

_ And just like that, Minho was all alone.  _

_ = _

_ ‘I’m right here.’  _ Seungmin says. He’s hovering somewhere above Minho, letting his human form succumb to invisibility the second the door is assaulted by a series of heavy, enthusiastic knocks. 

Minho sighs. He twists his earring in his ear and looks over to the space Seungmin is occupying. 

“I wish you could-”

_ ‘Focus on your friends.’  _

Just like last time, he is accosted with a series of heavy hugs from both Changbin and Felix. Arms full of snacks and a considerably smaller amount of alcohol than last time. Minho laughs genuinely when Changbin pretends to bite his face, he pretends to bite Felix’s finger when Felix tries to poke his face. He’s gained a little weight since Seungmin started observing him - what, almost a year ago? His eating habits are loose and although not unhealthy, are considerably more delicate to his emotions than they had been.

Seungmin carefully pushes the empty ice-cream container from last night off of the counter, where it falls into the corner of the room, just out of sight. 

Felix is practically vibrating, grabbing Minho’s sleeve and tugging. “Minho - this is my boyfriend-”

Oh no.

Oh no. 

Seungmin tries to pull Minho back with his mind, tries to call his aura, tries to do  _ anything. _ The despair is thick enough that Seungmin chokes on it. He chokes and chokes and struggles, as a divine entity, to catch his breath. 

He tries to close off his senses, tries to flatten every single feather, but nothing works - the despair is so thick it clogs his nose. 

“-Han Jisung.” 

The crack of Han Jisung’s nose under Minho’s fist is the last thing Seungmin hears before he is dragged back to the Heavens, barely conscious. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note!:  
> I want to make it explicitly clear, in case it isn't clear within the chapter, that Lee Minho and Han Jisung had a mutually toxic relationship. They are equally victims of the other, and hurtful of the other. Minho *did* have strong feelings for Jisung, but not in love. Jisung's toxicity comes from being in a position of power and abusing it by pursuing a relationship, (which is not explicitly stated, but hopefully you got that), I think Minho's toxicity and tunnel-vision on his infatuation is more obvious in the chapter.   
> Like I said, they are both equally innocent as guilty. Sometimes relationships are hard - and there's no clear cut good and bad guy in an unhealthy relationship. 
> 
> Please let me know if there's any concerns or queries, specifically about Minho/Han. Their relationship is a complex one, but one I wanted to explore in this playing field nonetheless! If something in the chapter reads wrong, or leads people to think something I didn't intend to, then I can hopefully fix it! 
> 
> This story is notably sadder than i originally planned..... i will cheer it up soon :) 
> 
> s-spare comment....?


	7. 7. Revelations (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait!!! xmas be xmas u know how it is

When Seungmin awakens, he does so with a hand stroking his wings softly. Seungmin blinks his eyes open and desperately tries to focus. The ethereal light of the heavens prove too much for his level of consciousness, and he lets his eyes close again with a groan. 

“Seungminnie?” A voice which can only belong to Chan pipes up. “Are you alright?” 

Seungmin’s body feels heavy. An odd experience for a weightless entity. His head feels compressed, like his human skill is too small for the contents it holds. “What happened?” He asks, blearily. He tries blinking his eyes open again, only to see Hyunjin’s form leaning over him. 

Chan shifts a little, shifting Seungmin’s head from where it lies in his lap. He apologizes then continues threading his fingers through Seungmin’s feathers. They ache in places, which tells Seungmin that he must have fallen onto his wings at some point.

“You were blasting a distress signal,” Although he tries to say it calmly, the worry is clear in Hyunjin's voice. Seungmin curses himself for the nth time for not spending more time practising his communication network. Now he’s done nothing but worry his friends. Hyunjin’s hands ghost over Seungmin’s face, urging him to close his eyes. “You can keep them shut until your head stops hurting - yes, your network is still open, before you ask.” 

Ship. 

“Language,” Chan scolds good-naturedly. “Even the archangels heard your distress call - that’s why me and the kids rushed down to you so fast. What happened?” 

What happened? 

What happened?!

Seungmin shoots up, cracking his forehead against Chan’s jaw in the process, but he hardly stumbles as he works to right himself. Hyunjin is trying to coax him back down- but he can’t - “Minho - where’s Minho?” 

“Seungmin, you’re no good to anyone like this-” He catches Seungmin as he loses his balance, although Chan has to right Hyunjin, who keels over with the weight, the angel would honestly be tossed around by a gentle breeze. “See - you can’t even stand straight.” 

“I need to help him-”

Chan catches Seungmin’s face in his hands. The gaze is permeating enough to momentarily still his thrashing and he does what all angels, what all creatures would do when pinned by the gaze of Bang Chan: he listens.

“He will be okay, Seungmin. He has lasted times without any angel at all, you know this.” 

Seungmin nods. But he shouldn’t have had to.    
“Even during those times, I was watching him. Lee Minho has a chorus of angels watching over him, and you have even more watching  _ you. _ You needn’t let yourself get injured like this.” 

“I don’t know what happened…” Seungmin drops his gaze. Chan lets his hands go from Seungmin’s face, and chooses to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Seungmin doesn’t mention how he tightens a hand in Seungmin’s robes- as if afraid he’ll fall out of his line of sight. 

“The place stank when we arrived. There were a lot of emotions, you probably just got overwhelmed.” 

Seungmin sighs. “What kind of angel gets overwhelmed?” 

“I do.” Chan says. A heavy beat of silence falls upon the trio.

Now, this takes Seungmin by surprise. For all intents and purposes, Seungmin was under the impression that Chan was perfect, as are all the management. “I used to be in the Guardian Angel program, myself you know.” 

“You  _ what?!”  _ Hyunjin bounces over and shakes Chan by the shoulder, in turn shaking Seungmin. “You never told us that!”

Chan laughs with his entire body. “I was in training for eighty years-”

“ _ Eighty?!”  _

Chan continues without noting Hyunjin’s outbursts. “By that stage, I was basically getting perfect scores in everything. Except for the most crucial part of angel training: accepting that your human will die, and you will have to live on without them.” 

“You got attached? How did you know, if you don’t get to form a bond until you graduate?” Seungmin asks. 

“Well…” Chan takes a step back and rolls his wings. His face paints a darker picture. “The Angel that was in charge of my training program had a… more clinical approach. He gave each of us a puppy on our first day and said it was to be our companion, that we were to love and cherish it as if it were our human.” Hyunjin grips Seungmin’s hand within his own in a desperate grip as Chan’s eyes grow wet. “I loved her. She was a little scrap of a thing, the runt of the litter. I was the only one who named theirs - maybe that was the first sign, I don’t know.” 

“What did you call her?” Seungmin asks gently.

Chan’s smile, although watery, is genuine. “Kkimi.” 

“And what happened?” Hyunjin’s eyes are watery too, but that is hardly a surprise - he’s always been fond of the animals.

“In order to earn our halo at our graduation, we had to deliver their soul to the afterlife.”

Seungmin’s mouth dropped. “You had to- to  _ kill _ your dog?!”

Chan laughed as he wiped away some tears, “I didn’t. I never graduated from the program, remember?” 

“So where is Kkimi?” Hyunjin drapes himself over Chan, even when Chan half-heartedly bats him away with his wings. 

“I let her be reborn. She deserved a life on Earth, where she is meant to be. I do miss her, though. I got too attached - I would never be able to see a human to the end. It worked out, though,” Chan smiles wide and brings both of the angels into a feather-crushing hug, “I get to look after you kids.” 

The story had a happy ending… for Chan. Seungmin has a bone-chilling feeling that his own story won’t be as such.

“I can go back now, Minho-”

“Jeongin is keeping an eye on him, don’t worry-”

“JEONGIN?!” Seungmin shouts, his voice shooting into the nasal-tone he often carries, “You left a  _ fledgling _ to look after my human?”

Chan and Hyunjin try, with all their might, to keep Seungmin rooted to the Heavens, but the gut feeling was too strong to ignore, and after being picked up and wrestled to the floor time and time again, he finally ducked under Hyunjin’s arms and propelled himself over Chan’s head - he’d help his human even if he had to fight his way to him. 

When they phase through the window of Minho’s apartment, they see Jeongin hovering worryingly over the sight before them. Changbin has his arms around Minho’s waist, holding him back while he is shouting at the bleeding boy on the floor. Felix is pushing a bloodied tissue into Jisung’s nose, all the while yelling back at Minho with eyes darker than Seungmin could ever imagine from the boy who typically acts as a mediator. 

Jeongin catches sight of the angels and stumbles in his hovering. He lets himself drop to the ground and lifts the hem of his robes, running to Chan.

“They won’t stop fighting - I tried to influence them to calm down but it wouldn’t work!” Chan ruffles his hair, earning a glare, and pushes Seungmin forward -  _ look after your human. _

But Seungmin doesn’t - not right away. He’s scared to open up any type of communication with Minho lest he gets overwhelmed again. So he does something peculiar. He lets himself into Minho’s bedroom - into the drawer at the bottom left of his dresser, and pulls out some of the clothes that Minho had donated to him. 

A simple hoodie and pants. 

Unassuming for humans, but the angels’ faces when he steps out of the bedroom are enough to make Seungmin wonder how his willingness to disobey the code had progressed so gradually. 

“Minho - this is it. Do you know how many nights I stayed up with Changbin, begging and pleading for him to give you another chance?!” Felix shouts. “I stood in your corner and defended you when  _ no one else _ would!” 

“I didn’t fucking ask you to - did I?!” 

“-And finally when things were getting back to normal - you punch my fucking boyfriend in the face? What’s wrong with you?!” 

“Your  _ boyfriend - _ that’s rich. You haven’t even had sex yet. Tell me angel, is it because your hole is so fucking ruined that-”

Hyunjin shoots Seungmin with a concerned look as the argument continues, but Seungmin isn’t panicking. He can’t panic. Although, the way Chan is watching him with a laser-focus isn’t doing much for his collectiveness. 

Poor Jisung, the voice of reason, is holding Felix’s hand tight, making fake noises of pain to curb his attention from Minho enough to simmer down. “Look, we can just go - it’s fine-” 

The conversation grows and shrinks and boils and simmers, a warpath of insults and accusations that Seungmin, even with some knowledge of the history between the friends, finds himself struggling to keep up with. The other three angels, who are watching curiously and with bated breath from the sidelines are lost completely. 

_ ‘Lee Minho - I know you’re upset, but losing your temper isn’t the solution here.’ _

Suddenly, Minho’s head snaps to Seungmin’s direction. His eyes are a storm of flame and heat. “Shut the fuck up, do you have nothing better to do than follow me like a lost puppy.” 

_ ‘Need I remind you that you asked me to be here-’ _

“Well I’m revoking that request - I don’t want to see your ugly face again.” 

Felix presses his palms into his eyes and screams. The sound stops even Minho in his thrashing. When he pulls away his eyes are red with unshed tears, ones of anger. “Why do we even try, Minho? You  _ refuse _ to get help - you haven’t been taking your medication and you’re talking to  _ thin fucking air. _ ” 

“Baby, c’mon - let’s go,” Jisung stands and tugs on Felix’s coat sleeve, but it’s futile. This is the cumulation of all the frustration. Seungmin can see the string between Minho and Felix stretching, the fibres shaking with the effort to stop it from snapping. There isn’t long. 

“I’m not crazy.” Minho’s voice shows a significant amount of control, of clarity. The sudden change in tone makes Changbin fault, and Minho has enough leverage to wiggle out of his arms - but he doesn’t move. He stands tall, in the entryway of his apartment, eyes trained on the boy with the bleeding nose who is on the threshold. “I see angels. I’ve had a guardian angel since the day I was born, and he’s standing right beside Felix. You called me insane, made me go to therapy, tried to stuff me full of pills - how many times do I have to tell you two that I’m not crazy? Do I need to tell you about them - is that it?” Chan shoots Seungmin a look, but Seungmin stays strong.

Something is happening. Something big is looming on the horizon. By Hyunjin’s quivering feathers, he can see it too. 

“They have halos that glow the colour of your aura - even in the dark. They leave angel dust  _ everywhere  _ \- you can see some on the doorframe if you look hard enough - that gold-silver sheen. They can smell your emotions, they can read the ghost of your thoughts, they can speak directly into your ears, they can fly across the world in seconds, hell-” Minho laughs something between genuine laughter, and something horribly sour, “An angel even saved your lives. When Changbin was going to drive to the motel you two were going to get hit by-”

Felix and Changbin’s eyes roll back into their heads as Chan presses a gentle palm to their forehead. Jeongin and Hyujin rush to catch them and lower them gently to the floor, where they lie still as stone.  _ ‘It won’t do them good to know such details’  _ Chan explains.

_ ‘You don’t need to justify your actions - I trust you.’ _ Seungmin replies. 

“Did they just fucking die?!”  _ Uh oh. _

Jisung rushed to his knees to pat over Felix, even slapping his face. Felix’s head simply lolled to the side. “Hey, c’mon baby - wake up-” Jisung continued to pat over Felix, shaking him this way and that. Seungmin makes note to check for a concussion, giving the viciousness of Jisung shaking Felix’s brain around his skull like a ragdoll. 

“You assholes.” Minho’s voice is dangerous. The angels, who had been peering at the unconscious humans, muttering to themselves, stopped dead in their tracks. Hyunjin’s face grew pale as it did the last time Minho stared at his form - now Jeongin joins him. Chan, however, simply swallows and looks at the ground somewhat sheepish. “Seungmin - which one are you? Step forward right now.” His voice holds authority, which Seungmin complies with, although refuses to recognize.

Seungmin doesn’t step forward, but he does say, aloud, “I’m by your side, Minho.” Sure enough, Jisung jumps out of his skin and looks around the room with wide eyes. Minho ignores him and turns to Seungmin, eyes cold. “I told you not to touch them. I told you to leave them alone and not taint them with your angel voodoo shit-”

“It was a different angel, not me. I didn’t lay a finger on them.” 

“Wh-where is that voice coming from?” Jisung looks around, opens the apartment door: no one there. Peels back Felix’s eyelid: unconscious. Looks inside his backpack: for some reason? He makes a brief grab for Minho’s sleeve, tugging on it with shaking hands, “What’s going on-”

This snaps something in Minho, who reels on Jisung, attention being pulled sharply from the angels.

“And YOU-” He jabs his finger into the tender dip between Jisung’s collarbones. “You have the  _ nerve _ to play with Felix like that? How  _ dare _ you use him like this as a way to get back to me - to do what? Apologize?! To play fucking  _ house _ again? How could you just rope him along like that?! You saw Changbin and Felix as nothing more than toys - you always did!” 

“I don’t-” Jisung is backed to the wall with every harsh jab to his chest. He nervously licks at the blood and sweat on his upper lip before fumbling himself into a sentence. “I don’t know what’s going on - Felix and Changbin - are they okay?” 

Seungmin sees Jisung’s horrible, sickly yellow fear flow from his chest in rivulets. The boy is shaking, his shoulders shuddering under his half-zipped hoodie, his hands clenching and unclenching. His feet keep twitching towards Felix’s unconscious form, desperate to go back to his side. Jeongin is watching over him, Felix is in good hands, although Jisung has no way of knowing that. For the terrified human, his boyfriend and his friend suddenly slipped into unconsciousness and he is left alone with a disembodied voice and a man who has possibly broken his nose.

“And what do you care if they’re okay?” Minho seethes, crowding Jisung even more against the wall. There is little height difference between them, but even from Seungmin’s perspective, Minho towers him. 

“You’re scaring him,” Seungmin says. He tries to make his voice as gentle as possible, not to scare Jisung any more. Jisung lets out a pathetic squeal. Well, at least he tried.

From the corner, he sees Chan with his head in his hands. 

_ 'I've been trying to calm him down - it’s not working,'  _ Hyunjin says. Sure enough, if Seugnmin looks closely, Hyunjin’s calming aura is trying to quash the sickly yellow - to no avail. It is odd, considering Hyunjin’s practise with quenching fear since his human developed nightmares, this should be little trouble for him. The sickly yellow doesn’t even appear to fight back - it just… ignores him. Seungmin’s focus is broken when Minho turns to him, eyes hard and cold, but behind them… is more. More loneliness, desperation, all the horrible stuff he tried so hard to hide from Seungmin at the start. 

“Stay out of this.” His voice is cold, clinical. His eyes turn back to Jisung, whose breath catches at the scrutinizing glare. “You’re nothing but his replacement. You weren’t meant to be my angel - you were just whatever the heavens had lying around that was stupid enough to waste his time on me. I’m not born of your essence, or however the story goes. You can’t do shit for me, you’re just as much of a coward as he is - you’ll probably fuck off too, right?” Minho laughs sourly. “Even my born angel couldn’t stand to be with me, I tainted him too much - I give you another six months max.”

Jeongin and Hyunjin audibly gasp, Seungmin can hardly hear them. Instead, he is focusing on calming himself, even feeling Chan’s warm aura soothing the bubbling in his gut. He repeats the same thing he has said dozens of times: “I am by your side, Minho. I will look after you - you’re my human.” 

“Not without a halo bond, I’m not.” 

_ 'Hyung…'  _ Jeo ngin’s tender voice reaches out - but Seungmin holds his hand to cut him off. He moves to speak anyway, but Hyunjin, who can read the look on Seungmin’s face - shushes him.

It hurt.

It hurt to not have a halo bond. A guardian angel without a halo bond is like a bird without its wings. It’s embarrassing - pitiful. For a long time after graduating without being given a human, Seungmin avoided leaving his ‘room’ - even refusing to see Hyunjin and Jeongin. He spent so long feeling ugly, malformed,  _ useless _ … it took him even longer to build the courage to walk around the heavens as normal. To ignore the stares and whispers of _‘That’s the one without a bond… maybe he was demoted…’_

_ ‘I heard he let his human die-’ _

_ ‘Seungmin cheated in his exams which is why the bond doesn’t hold-’ _

_ ‘Everyone knows he’s deformed - an angel without essence’ _

Seungmin had to take each horrible turn of phrase and ignore it, all while admiring the soft pink-white glow atop Hyunjin’s blonde locks. 

Angels do not need consent to form bonds with their humans - it is a necessary part of the relationship, after all. Technically, Seungmin is only Minho’s guardian angel  _ on paper. _ He has been patient and forgiving with Minho, whose fear of making Seungmin fall overpowers Seungmin’s desire to bond with him. So he gave him space, he gave him time, he gave him his undivided attention, his human form, even stepping  _ way _ out of his comfort zone, simply so Minho will have a marginally better quality of life.

Seungmin does all of this for Minho. He always will, no matter what the dark-faced man in front of him might say. 

Seungmin had never been as fond of humans as Hyunjin - nor as endeared by them as Chan. Minho was different. He cared for Minho in more meaningful ways than he could truly express. Being spoken to as if he is nothing, as if he doesn’t  _ care _ for Minho on a deeper level than what is required of him by angel law -  _ ducking hurts. _

“Lee Minho-” Seungmin’s voice rattles the contents of the fridge. Jisung’s heart rate speeds up by 17beats per minute, the television remote which had been sitting obediently on the arm of the sofa falls to the ground, the chains from Changbin’s pants rattle against the floor. “I have done nothing but help you. I have done all I can while not forcing a bond upon you, as per your wishes. I don’t  _ have _ to obey any of your desires, I am free to do whatever I wish, should I deem it best for you. In the land of the heavens - you have  _ no power over me. _ ” 

_ 'Seungmin - your voice is getting too…. Angelish - you’re gonna burst his brain,' _ Hyunjin says. But Seungmin knows better. ' _ The kid too, Minnie - you’ll hurt him.'  _ And yet - despite Seungmin’s voice rising past the human pain threshold, Jisung is showing no pain, only deep confusion and fear - a torrid swamp of emotions which stink out the air. 

When Minho does nothing but let out a sardonic smile, Seungmin decides to throw caution to the wind.  _ ‘I trust you, Seungmin’ _ echos in his head, more significant than prayer - however blasphemous it might be to say.

Seungmin reveals his human form to the humans in front of him. Minho flinches in surprise ever so slightly, even raising an infuriating eyebrow at Seungmin’s attire. Jisung, however, scrambles against the door, desperately trying to catch the doorknob. Eventually he gives up and chooses to press himself as flat against the wall as possible. 

Before Minho has the chance to say whatever his mouth opens to say, Seungmin grabs him by the front and pulls him into his personal space.    
The angels are rooted, eyes fixed on Seungmin. A law that is punished with a fate worse than death when broken has been not only broken, but chewed up and spat out right in front of their faces. Their eyes are glued to the trainwreck before them, the unconscious humans forgotten completely. 

Seungmin’s voice is perfectly human, perfectly soft when he speaks. The air grows still in order for him to be heard. “I am doing my best with you, Minho. I am  _ trying _ \- which is more than I can say for you. I may not be human, but I have feelings and I refuse to be spoken to like I am dirt on the sole of your shoes.” 

Then, with a little less weight, “I even bought a blow-up mattress for you and Changbin.” 

“Didn’t you steal it?” Minho asks, eyes dangerous and playful. It makes Seungmin’s stomach lurch. 

“It was stolen from the hands of the laborers by the corporations.” 

“Ah, Angels are anti-capitalism?” 

“I don’t speak for the Angels - only myself.” 

This makes Minho’s lip quirk. He considers Seungmin with… intrigue… interest. The anger is still there, but it somehow compliments the other emotions swirling in his gaze. Seungmin wants to look away, but just as the other angels want to peel their gaze - he is unable. 

Until: “PLEASE TELL ME WHAT’S GOING ON BEFORE I SHIT MY PANTS.”

Seungmin, startled by the boy he had somewhat forgotten was there, squeaks out, “Uh-”

Thankfully, Minho supplies the information with a wave of his wrist. “He’s an angel and there are three more in the room. You can stop playing dumb.” 

“Bang Chan is here.” Seungmin isn’t sure why he is compelled to say this, but he does, and the reaction he was expecting was not for Minho to start, his face to grow pale, and his hands to twist themselves in Seungmin’s hoodie. 

“No,” He says. 

“No?”

“He has to go. Please don’t let him-” Minho sucks in a breath. “Get him out.” The fear in his eyes… unlike what he had ever seen with Minho before, sets something off inside of him. Despite being angry at his human just moments ago, he wraps his wings - although not visible - protectively around his human and glares - _ glares! _ at Chan.

“Chan. What did you do.” 

Chan had been fairly quiet up until now, settling in the back, far from the line of duty. His face showed no real surprise at being called out so openly, nor anger at Seungmin for growling at him in such an insubordinate fashion. He just looked tired. Remorseful. All the things that Seungmin, Hyunjin, and Jeongin work so hard to keep  _ off _ of his face. 

He sighs heavily, not sparing the angels a glance, and shakes his feathers. He steps easily into his human form, completely corporeal. Seungmin sees how Minho’s eyes rake over him apprehensively, and how his grip tightens.    
Chan encourages the other angels to follow his lead. “You’re safe to do so with Minho and Jisung.”

Hyunjin and Jeongin share a wary glance, but they trust Chan without queries. Hyunjin shakes himself into his visible human form, his hair landing awkwardly from the movement. Jeongin steps into his human form with half of his left arm missing. Hyunjin helpfully shakes his shoulders aggressively until it pops into corporeality. 

Chan’s voice, although perfectly human, demands attention. “Minho,” He says kindly. “Let me tell you about your angel.”

Minho’s hand trembles, his eyes wide. He hasn’t even considered the other two angels in the room, eyes riveted on Chan. Seungmin unfurls the hand from his hoodie, slipping his own into it and squeezing. 

_ ‘It’s okay. He won’t hurt you - or me, I promise. I am right beside you.’  _ Seungmin says to Minho, careful not to broadcast it elsewhere. 

Chan takes a step forward, but carefully retreats when Minho almost yanks Seungmin’s arm out to pull him in front of him, using Seungmin as a shield.

Chan runs a hand through his hair and begins. 

“Your angel asked to be felled. I did not sign him to fall for breaking the angel code - although I should have. I knew what was happening, I always did- let me finish.” Chan raises a hand to politely cut Minho off. “He came to me, one night. Asking, begging, with tears in his eyes, to commence his falling. He was  _ hurting _ you, Minho. He was holding you back. Your relationship… it made you a recluse, once your relationship with your angel started, your life ended. With your angel in the picture, with the nature of your… intense relationship and strong feelings, your life’s purpose would never be fulfilled.” 

Minho squeezes Seungmin’s hand. “He was my everything.” His voice is quiet, but honest. 

Chan smiles at him sadly, “And how sad is it that two whole individuals love each other so closely that they become one?” 

“He didn’t have to leave-”

“Yes, Minho,” Chan says softly, but sternly. “He did.” 

Minho sinks to the floor, hand falling from Seungmin and up to Jisung’s trembling forearm, gripping it with forceful tenderness. “My angel,” His voice breaks. “Was there no other way?” 

Jisung says nothing. Confusion reeks the air.

“His memory was wiped. Another request of his.” 

Minho let go of Jisung’s arm and wipes at his eyes. “He wanted to forget me?” He asks Seungmin. Seungmin has no answer for him. Seungmin sits beside Minho and lets him fall onto his shoulder.

“When an angel falls, their memory is severely damaged. He would have forgotten most of you, but he would still feel the pain, the emptiness of your presence. He would miss you more than remember you,” Chan says. 

“He found Felix…” Minho can’t look at Jisung anymore. 

Chan takes a deep, calculating breath. Then, surprisingly: “I messed up.” The angels in the room look at their boss with shock. Bang Chan doesn’t mess up. “He wanted a complete relocation but… I doubted his ability to survive as a human on his own, so I made some calls and had his fate entwined with someone I knew would keep him safe.” Chan looks at the unconscious Australian on the floor with fondness. “It worked better than I could have hoped. Jisung and Felix’s lives benefitted in many ways - it would have been hard to make such a good match on  _ purpose _ .” Minho is looking at Chan with pain, understanding, but pain. 

“But…” Hyunjin prompts. 

“This happened,” He gestures to the crying boy on the floor, curled up with his angel. The bloodied boy, half-collapsed against the door, the two unconscious humans who are none-the-wiser. 

“You knew this would happen?” Seungmin tried to keep the bite from his teeth, he really did. But his human was trying desperately not to cry on his shoulder, taking stuttering breaths and squeezing his eyes shut. 

“Not this  _ exactly, _ ” He looks sheepish. “But… you know.” 

“You guys- people - angels- aren’t talking about  _ me, _ right?!” Jisung’s loud, shaky voice interrupts the calm sorrow of the room. 

“We are!” Jeongin chirps happily, to be elbowed by Hyunjin.

“I’m not- I’m not an angel. I would  _ know. _ ”

Jeongin lists off on his fingers as he speaks. “Fallen Angel symptoms: frequent migraines; scarring on shoulder blades; lack of significant childhood memories; poor spatial awareness; irregular sleep and eating patterns; indigestion; high sex dri-” Hyunhin cuts him off with a hand over his mouth and a disgusted scowl on his face.

“I don’t want to think about his sex drive - no offense.” 

Unnoticed amongst the following commotion between the trio, with Chan looking on with stress lines on his forehead, Minho buries his head in his hands and rocks forward. Seungmin places his arm around those shaking shoulders. “This will work out,” He says softly, his breath shifts Minho’s hair a little.

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then I’ll still be here,” He says thoughtfully.

Minho looks at Seungmin with those eyes of his. Seungmin looks back too, in the same way. Minho cups Seungmin’s cheek - a mirror of how Seungmin should cup his, to form the bond. Seungmin rubs a careful thumb to the tears on Minho’s face. Their attention is drawn back to Jisung, and it is as if the moment has never happened.

“Those are vague! It’s like a horoscope - it could apply to anyone!”

“The horoscope department would smite you if they heard you say that,” Hyunjin entertains. 

“ _ Horoscope department?” _ Jisung cries and falls dramatically to the floor. Minho reaches over and wipes some of the blood from his face. His hand does not linger, however, his attention does. He stares at the boy grumbling on the floor in mental duress with great thought. 

“I can prove it, Jisung. But it will be hard. The memories might be difficult and…” He glances at Minho, “Old feelings might resurface.”

“They won’t.” Minho says this with finality. He is still gazing at Jisung - at his angel.

“You’re sure?” Seungmin asks.

Minho takes a staggered breath and brings his palm to Jisung’s cheek - as he had done with Seungmin. Jisung’s eyes flutter open. Their eyes lock for a moment, Jisung’s confusion mixing with Minho’s introspection. This must tell Minho something, because he pulls his hand away and confirms, “Yes. It was only love because of circumstance, as much as it hurts to say. I miss him like an adult misses their childhood rather than how a lover misses their lost love.” 

“You miss the familiarity. Your feelings are tinted with the rose-lense of nostalgia,” Hyunjin says. Surprisingly, Minho sends him a soft smile, eyes red.

“Yes.” 

“I need your explicit permission, Han Jisung.” 

“Hey - how did you know my name?” Jisung twists himself to point accusingly at Chan. 

“He’s an angel, dumbass,” Minho mumbles. 

“Say yes!” Jeongin cheers. The fledgling, despite his earlier fear, seems to be enjoying the show. 

“You’re only saying that because the longer we stay here, the more flying practice you miss.” Jeongin shushes Hyunjin in time for Jisung to throw his hands in the air, smacking his wrist against the doorframe.

“You know what? Sure. Blast me with your angel rays. It’s not like today can get any fucking weirder!” 

When Chan ushers Jisung over, and he complies, Chan cups his face gently, and through terribly concealed tears, presses their forehead together. 

The energy in the room shifted  _ instantly _ \- so much so that Changbin stirred in his sleep, his chains making jangling noises against the floor as he does so. Seungmin’s feathers fluff involuntarily, Minho shivers fiercely - even Jeongin and Hyunjin groan at the sudden onslaught of angelic energy. Seungmin begins to feel ill, and although angels can’t vomit, they most certainly can in their corporeal form. Briefly, he hears Hyunjin crying out from a sudden migraine, Jeongin sneezes uncontrollably, sending gold-glitter spraying into the air. 

If it were nighttime, a passerby would have noticed a strange, intoxicating light streaming from the windows, a beacon for the heavens. 

The immense pressure only lasted a handful of seconds, but it was enough for the three angels to be rolling around in distress. Minho patted Seungmin’s thigh, although his eyes never left the two in front of him. 

When it ended, it ended with Chan trying to suffocate the croak of his throat, turning away from the others to control his tears. It ended with Jisung meeting Minho’s eyes - and bursting into tears. 

Jisung stands there, tears streaming down his face, dripping off the tip of his nose, wordlessly trying to speak to Minho. The crying was so sudden and so intense, that Hyunjin jumps and almost falls over onto his ass. 

“Always with the crying, seriously…” Minho sighs, although good-naturedly. Jisung continues to cry. Minho is crying too. Minho opens his arms and Jisung falls into him, clutching at him and leaving trails of snot and tears on his sweater. “I ruined this, I’m sorry,” Minho says as he cards a hand through Jisung’s hair. He looks at his empty palm and frowns. “I’m sorry, angel.” 

“No,” Jisung says firmly. “I should have known better - I never should have let it happen.”

“I never listened. I should have listened.”

“I let you think it was love. It wasn’t love, not for you. I was greedy, I took whatever you could give me. I manipulated you by letting you think what you felt for me was love-”

“Angel-”

“I’m Jisung now. I’m not your angel, Minho.” Jisung’s voice breaks sharply as he says this, and if the wince on Minho’s face is anything to go by - it hurts him just as much to hear it. 

The angels made an unspoken agreement to leave the pair to settle their past. It takes hours. Seungmin takes Minho’s phone from the bedroom and orders food - knowing too well that Minho and Jisung will likely be starving. He orders Minho an extra portion of egg rolls - he always gets hungry after crying, so he told him one night. 

When the salty smell of tears begins to dissipate into something more neutral, the angels come back into the living space, to see Jisung and Minho now moved to the couch, with Jisung resting on Minho, his body awkwardly contorted in a way which Seungmin cannot imagine is comfortable.

To answer Seungmin’s raised eyebrow, Minho, with red eyes says, “We both suck. We’ve agreed.” 

Jisung laughs, a little wetly, but not disingenuously, then looks to Chan. “Do I still have my angel powers?” He wiggles his fingers at him.

“You forfeited those when you fell.” He is looking at Jisung with so much  _ fondness _ that Seungmin clears his throat and looks away. Gross. But looking at Jisung is no better, he’s staring back at Chan like he had found the missing moon and perched her back up in amongst the stars for him. Gross.

“I missed you so much, Chan.”

“You didn’t remember me.”

“I miss you now.”

“I’m right here.”

“I miss you now for all the times I could have missed you - HA! Got you,” Jisung sticks his tongue out, earning an eyeroll from Minho.

Chan crossed his arms and leans against the door frame, eyes bright with amusement. “I certainly didn’t miss you playing flutterby and shattering the greenhouse every week.” Despite his words, he walks over to the couch, Minho only minorly skeptical, and places a delicate palm on Jisung’s forehead. “I missed you too.” 

Jisung is still leaning on Minho, making no move to leave. There is something different there - moreso than their history, there is something growing here. If Seungmin squints, he can see the faintest of thread fibres, reaching out between the two, even amongst the brutal mess of the severed ties. It is too young to make out - but it is there. 

At the mention of their favourite game - Jeongin and Hyunjin perk up. 

“Can we play flutterby?” Jeongin asks, already flapping his wings dangerously. 

“Yeah! Jisung can play too, just without flying!” Jisung lights up at Hyunjin’s words.

“Not in my fucking living room you won’t.” Minho says, glaring at the fledgling. Jeongin sticks his tongue out and darts around the living room, narrowly missing colliding with the walls, although that is mostly due to Hyunjin following him, shoving him out of the way of potential injuries. Hyunjin is a little late, and Jeongin tumbles into the fridge, knocking over a plethora of food items, if the crashing noise is anything to judge by.

Something forgotten stirs at the commotion. “Hyung… why are there people flying around your living room?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jisung: sure! I'm an angel! 2020 can't get any fucking weirder!!
> 
> this fic is turning into a minsung angst fic so slowly i didnt even realise.... LOL  
> we will be back on track. part II will be lighter. there was too much for one chapter!! 
> 
> leave me a comment i will kiss you square on the mouth


	8. 8.Revelations (Part II)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this fic was meant to be no more than 30k.
> 
> [please note added tags in regards to alcohol]
> 
> :)

“So,” Felix says after a long, long conversation that dragged late into the evening. He considers the angels, who have taken their seats scattered around the floor of Minho’s living space. “Angels are real.” He shoots Minho a look to confirm. Minho just shrugs. The motion jostles Jisung, who is still glued to Minho’s side on the couch. 

The conversation had been pioneered mostly by Chan, once Minho had reassured his frantic friends that the flying figures weren’t demons or ghosts or whatever. Because apparently a ghost is more believable than an angel. Ah,  _ humans _ , Seungmin thinks wearily. Seungmin had taken a backseat in the discussion, balancing on the back of the couch, legs bracketing Minho. 

Chan was sitting on the coffee table, hands running nervously though his hair as the silence from the crux of his explanation grew bigger and bigger until Felix broke it. 

“And…” Felix takes a heavy pause. Seungmin  _ smells _ his brain working overtime. “Jisung … was your guardian angel?” 

Jisung hums, half-asleep. Chan explained, when Jeongin noted Jisung nodding off, that getting such a rush of memories is exhausting, a rush of information for a human brain and body to cope with. 

Felix scrubs his face, his hair (which he had started growing out, Seungmin notes) is frazzled and sticking up at all angles from the amount he has trained through it. “So - all the things you said… that we called you crazy for-”

“They were all true.” 

Felix takes a shuddering breath. Seungmin can see Chan’s aura trying to soothe Felix’s emotions. Chan, however, is tired - and there are a  _ lot _ of emotions to soothe, so it comes as no surprise when Felix sucks his lip into his mouth and blinks aggressively at the ceiling light. “Right,” He says. His voice cracks. 

When Changbin slams the door storming off, it rattles in the quiet apartment for a long handful of seconds. Hyunjin carefully steadies the lamp from where it keels dangerously. Felix winces at the sound, but doesn’t mention it. If Seungmin catches Minho’s gaze lingering mournfully on the door for a moment, he doesn’t mention it, and if Minho shuffles a little closer to his legs, he doesn’t mention that either. 

Felix takes a heavy breath, steeling his emotions, and shuffles on his knees to Minho. He grips his knees and bows his head there. “I’m sorry - I’m so, so sorry-” He cuts himself off, his emotions taking over.

Minho looks surprised for a moment, as if surprised his friends are apologising to him, as if he never considered himself worthy of an honest apology. The moment passes and Minho loosens the arm from underneath Jisung, who snorts in his sleep as he falls into Minho’s lap. He blearily rights himself and curls onto the other side of the couch, leaning on Jeongin. The angel shoots Seungmin a pleading face and gestures at Jisung -  _ ‘What do I do with this?!’ _

Minho leans forward a little and ruffles Felix’s hair. “It’s okay.”

“No!” He shouts - sudden enough to make Hyunjin knock over the lamp he had just righted. “It’s  _ not _ okay! How could you say what we did was ok? We - oh my God- wait, sorry, shit. No - uh-” Felix stumbles and he eyes the angels fearfully.

Chan’s low chuckle seems to calm him enough, “We’re not your mother - curse all you want.” 

“Uh - okay.” But he doesn’t. “We tried to  _ drug _ you. We called you crazy - we gaslighted you! How can you forgive us for being such terrible friends?” 

_ Friends _ . Seungmin could laugh. He looks at their ties - their family ties, as clear as the freckles on Felix’s face. Humans use the word friend so liberally - they’re truly family, after all. 

“It was kind of shitty,” Minho says, not unkindly - though it makes Felix’s face crumple. Minho pinches his cheek. “Fine - you suck and I hate you - is that what you want to hear?” 

“It’s probably what I deserve to hear,” Felix laughs and wipes away a tear. 

“Let’s just say we’re even now, is that good?”

“Even?”

Minho furrows his brow, “Do you not remember that time I spilled red wine on your new coat?” 

Surprisingly, Felix bursts into laughter which only exacerbates his tears. “I got it for ₩10,000 at a thrift store!” He says, near hysterics.

Minho shakes him, “Which means you couldn’t even  _ replace it _ . The guilt eats me everyday.” 

Felix rubs his cheek into Minho’s knee affectionately, where Minho pats his head like a dog. Jisung, slightly more awake, crudely ruffles Felix’s hair with his foot. Felix grimaces and knocks his foot away. “Your feet stink.”

“Do they?” Jisung asks mischievously and promptly wiggles his toes in his boyfriend’s face. Felix continues to swat at Jisung until he falls fully into Jeongin’s lap - who instinctively shoves him to the floor.    
“Sorry,” He says insincerely, then immediately takes seat beside Chan, away from all this nonsense. 

“Are we not going to get fired for being here in front of… humans?” Hyunjin asks when Felix accidently kneels on one of his feathers - and apologises profusely for it. 

Chan ushers Hyunjin over and fixes the feathers he couldn’t reach himself. He pats Hyunjin on the butt when he’s done and smiles at Hyunjin’s disgust. “Felix and Changbin: we can trust.” 

Felix looks to Seungmin worriedly, then back to Chan. He nods at him, confirming that he can, in fact, be trusted. 

“What about me?” Jisung says loudly, only to be slapped on the leg by Felix.

“You  _ are _ an angel,” He hisses, as if it’s a secret.

“ _ Was _ an angel-” Jeongin intercepts.

“I will  _ always _ be Felix’s angel, isn’t that right, baby?” He makes obnoxious kissing noises. Felix grimaces and pushes his face away. 

“So you’re Felix…” Jeongin says, then turns to Chan, “So Changbin is the guy who stormed off so loudly that he woke up the baby downstairs?” 

Sure enough, if Seungmin focuses his hearing, he can hear the distinct wails of a newborn some floors below. Poor thing, likely it had only been put down for its evening nap.    
Chan sighs a weary affirmation and with a harsh flap of wings, is gone from sight to go soothe the baby back to sleep. Felix blinks rapidly at the sudden disappearance, but none of the others take note, Jeongin and Hyunjin are too busy in silent communication with each other. Jisung is staring at Hyunjin’s feathers - continuously reaching out to touch them, only for the wings to bat his wandering hand away. Jisung eventually gives up and sits back on the couch.

Seungmin focuses on trying to thread the strings of the hoodie back - one of the strings had disappeared into the hood and it has been frustrating him to no end. 

Some minutes later, he feels the couch cushion at his food shift where Felix has clamoured onto it, kicking Jisung’s feet to the floor to do so. He hugs Minho’s shoulder, receiving an eyebrow raise in response.

“I am sorry, you know.” His voice is quiet enough that the others likely don’t hear - but Seungmin has front row tickets. He debates moving, but moving now would be too obvious and would make the conversation stilted most likely, so he dutifully does what any good person would do. He pretends he can’t hear the conversation happening not a foot away from him, focusing on the string of this  _ stupid  _ hoodie. 

“Felix. It’s okay.” 

“I don’t think you get  _ how _ shitty I feel about this. About how we treated you - and that’s probably only a fraction of how  _ we _ made you feel - I can’t even … we made you feel so  _ bad _ .” 

Minho leans into his friend. “What’s done is done, I forgive you and I hold no harsh feelings about it - so stop getting your snot on my shirt.” 

Felix makes a choked sound and jumps into Minho - a bone crushing hug catches the words in Minho’s throat.

Minho awkwardly pats Felix and tries to dislodge him to no avail. “You’re gonna choke me to death.”

“Your guardian angel wouldn’t let that happen.” 

Seungmin, unable to resist, “Which one?” 

Minho manages to loosen Felix’s grip enough to lean his head back and look up at Seungmin. His eyes are sparking. His soul… it’s flowing with an energy Seungmin hadn’t seen before. It catches his breath and Seungmin has to remind himself that his human is  _ speaking _ to him. 

“Turkey feathers has jokes, does he?” His grin is sly, and wonderfully genuine. 

“Minnie’s feathers look like doves’,  _ Hyunjin’s _ look like turkeys.” Hyunjin threatens to undo the fastening of Jeongin’s robes.

“Could be worse - mine looked like pigeon feathers.” Jisung contemplates. Felix, suddenly struck by a revelation, swings his head between Jisung and Minho on either side so fast that Seungmin has to still his movements with a hand to his crown. 

“Holy  _ shit _ \- you were an angel.”

“Yes,” Jisung drawls. “Have you not been paying attention?”

“No - you were  _ the  _ angel.” 

“Technically that’s Michael,” Seungmin says, but Minho elbows him dangerously close to the groin. 

“So you were - with-” Felix twists to Minho, then back to Jisung, “You two were-” Words fall silent on his mouth, so Minho helpfully interjects-

“We fucked. A lot.” 

Jisung shoots Minho an annoyed look, growing darker when he sees how Felix deflates. Minho’s face stays statue-still, but Seungmin can see the twinge of panic behind them.

Jisung pulls Felix into his chest and rubs his shoulder comfortingly. “I didn’t remember Minho existed until a few hours ago. It doesn’t change anything -  _ especially _ not about how I feel about you.” 

“It changes a little.” Felix whispers.

“I - yeah. Okay, sure. It’s a little complicated. But between me and Minho? The feelings are old, they’re dead and buried. I had a lot of emotions and memories sprung on me at once, and I felt all the pain, the hurt, the regret at once. But those times are over, and for a good reason. We don’t need each other like that anymore,  _ right?” _ He looks pointedly at Minho.

Minho snorts. “I certainly don’t miss your dirty socks lying all over the floor.”

Felix jumps straight up. “RIGHT? It’s  _ so _ gross!!” 

“And when he squeezes the toothpaste from the middle instead of the end-”

“And when he leaves his jewelry everywhere-”

“What about how he doesn’t pair up his socks - just throws them willy-nilly into the drawer-”

“Leaving the windows open even when it’s freezing-”

As Minho and Felix enthusiastically share all of their pet peeves that Jisung has committed, Jisung turns, distraught, to Hyunjin and tugs on his robes for attention. “Is there a way to fall from Earth? Like, is there another level?”

Hyunjin thinks carefully, “Well, there’s Hell but-” Jeongin peers over Hyunjin’s shoulder with a devilishly sweet smile.

“We can put you there, if you want.”

“Murdering humans is probably against Angel Code,” Seungmin says without looking up, still fiddling with his hoodie string, cursing under his breath. With a heavy sigh, Minho tugs Seungmin forward until he’s leaning over him, and Minho works on fixing the string. Seungmin rests his hands on Minho’s shoulders for balance. 

“Well, technically he’s not human,” Hyunjin contemplates seriously.

“So you can do it? You can kill me?”

“I suppose…” Jeongin says, turning to Hyunjin, “How would we do it?”

“Whatever way you plan on killing me it can’t be more painful than listening to my two exes listing all my worst qualities.”

A voice behind Seungmin almost makes him stumble into Minho if it had not been for Minho’s quick reaction times, strong hand pushing back into his chest with enough pressure to right him. 

“I leave for ten minutes and you’re planning on murdering Jisung?” Chan laughs. He looks a little calmer, the anxiety drained from his shoulders. Chan always had an affinity for the babies. 

“Sorry chief-” Jisung peeks his head over the couch, but Chan meets him there, ruffling his hair aggressively enough to tangle it, “Yah! Cut it out!”

“I missed you. I’m sorry for twining you with Felix, it was against your wishes.” Felix perks at his name being said, although he chews at his lip at the apology. Jisung, whether it be remnants of his angel instincts, or if it is the simple intuition of a lover, nonetheless he wraps Felix in his arms and trails a hand lovingly up his back. “I trust you, chief. You did it for a reason.” He looks done adoringly at Felix, who is crushed into his chest and desperately struggling to breathe. “And it worked out okay, I’d say.”

  
  


Half an hour later, Minho, Felix and Jisung are sharing the food Seungmin ordered some hours earlier. It needed a quick blast in the microwave, but the flavour held up fine, if the eagerness which Jisung was tucking into it was anything to go by. 

Chan was discussing some aspect of Jeongin’s training with him, in very hushed tones. Probably something about training practice, considering the crestfallen expression on Jeongin’s face. Hyunjin and Seungmin were discussing the advantages and disadvantages of human clothes over their robes. Seungmin had grown rather fond of the things, even if the pants were constricting in ways the robes weren’t. Hyunjin seemed to appreciate the various styles of human fashion, he wishes that angels were allowed to express such levels of individuality. Maybe Chan would relax the uniform rules, given that he’s relaxed about breaking some of the most important angelic rules. 

It’s then when Seungmin’s ears pick up loud footsteps in the distance, strong steps up the numerous flights of stairs - growing closer and closer until-

“Jesus!” Minho starts when his front door slams open with enough force to ricochet into the wall and back into Changbin, who narrowly dodged a blow to the face.

“I’ll pay for it.” ‘It’ being the dent in the wall. 

When Changbin stomps over to the coffee table and dumps the load in his arms, it only takes a brief second before Felix and Minho collapse into giggles. This grabs the attention of the angels, who shuffle their way over to peer at the pile of … stuff on the table. Hyunjin, amused, begins to shift through the items. Changbin raises his eyebrow but makes no move to stop him, returning his focus to Felix and Minho losing their ship on the floor. Possibly because he is too busy trying to catch his breath subtly to think about trying to speak. 

Hyunjin moves a bag of liquor out of the way, and instead his focus lands on a cake, the icing is a little smushed from the journey, but the writing on it is still legible:  _ ‘SORRY I SUCK’. _ Felix barely collects himself, when he picks up a pig plushie and looks at its unfocused eyes, one looking left and one looking right, when he clutches it to his chest and falls back to the floor. 

“What’s the joke?” Jeongin asks Seungmin - who genuinely has  _ no  _ clue, so he just shrugs. His humans - human- is weird. 

Hyujin shows the contents of the bag to Chan who takes the bag of booze and sets it on the floor away from prying hands. 

After they collect themselves, Felix takes the liberty to explain. “When Changbin is sorry about something, he has three tiers: buying booze is like ‘sorry I kinda messed up’; buying food is ‘yeah, I REALLY suck’; and a plushie is a code red apology.” 

“Triple threat,” Minho says as he rights himself, small, clear giggles punctuating from his chest every now and again. 

It clicks. “Is that where your stuffed banana came from?” Seungmin asks.

“Changbin accidentally kicked Minho’s cat across the room, like, five years ago.” 

“How do you accidentally kick a cat?” Hyunjin ponders.

“In his defense,” Jisung says with a mouthful of noodles, chewing it and swallowing it once he grabs the attention, “It ran right out in front of his feet.”

Minho glares at him. “You took my side on that.”

In response, Jisung mimes breaking from a pair of handcuffs and basking in freedom. Minho rolls his eyes behind a smile. When he notices Changbin looking at him expectantly, desperate, he smiles genuinely. He motions for Chan to pass him the bag of booze, takes a bottle from it, and takes a swig of it without checking the contents. Thankfully, it was only wine, Seungmin wouldn’t fancy patting a coughing Minho after a swig of straight tequila. Next, he pops the transparent lid from the grocery-store cake, wipes his chopsticks on a napkin, and picks a deformed decorative icing flower and pops it in his mouth. Finally, he takes the stuffed pig from Felix and christians it Gabriel. 

Changbin’s shoulders relax. Seungmin had never seen someone carry stress as physically as Changbin, his shoulders tighten up to his ears, his brow furrowed into a washboard, if he hadn't been wearing shoes Seungmin suspects his toes would be curled. 

“I accept these apology gifts,” He smiles genuinely, but with a hint of mischief adds, “because rich-boy doesn’t know how to express his feelings.” 

In a sudden 180 of emotions so fast that Seungmin blinks in surprise, Changbin sighs and falls onto his ass, helping himself to one of Jisung’s chicken legs. He pops open a bottle of soju, takes a heft gulp and takes a deep breath.

“Angels are real.”

“Yep,” Minho says. 

“And we were horrible and sent you to therapy and forced you to take medication you didn’t need that possibly could have fucked with your brain.”

“Yes. I never actually went to therapy or took the medication, though.”

“Good,” He says seriously, “And this  _ was _ the angel you’re dating, who is now human and dating Felix.” Jisung back takes the chicken wing he was using to point at him and takes a bite of it, scowling. 

“I wouldn’t call it dating, but sure.” 

“Right.” Another drink. Then his eyes, for the first time, properly train on each of the angels - excluding Seungmin. “And these are all your angels?” 

“Just me,” Seungmin says hastily. Minho snorts and Jeongin and Hyunjin share an amused look. “These angels just don’t know that it’s impolite to overstay their welcome.”

“You’re one to talk- hey! Kick me again and see what happens,” Minho snaps and swipes half-heartedly at Seungmin. 

Changbin’s eyes rake over Seungmin. Seungmin’s posture uprights itself and he feels his wings, although not corporeal, tighten into his back. His eyes aren’t judgemental as much as … confused.

“ _ You’re  _ an angel? I thought - friend from the coffee shop!” He grabs an unsuspecting Felix’s sleeve and rattles him, pointing at Seungmin, “Angels wear hoodies,” He whispers. 

Minho opens his mouth to explain but Seungmin shoots him a gentle look to take over, Minho complies. Softly, Seungmin crouches beside Changbin. “I’m his guardian angel, yes. I wear human clothes to blend in better in the times I’m in public, although recently I’ve grown fond of sweaters and hoodies.” 

“They’re warm.” Changbin agrees dumbly.

“Yeah. As for the details…. Don’t worry about it right now. Your brain is overworked as is, it’ll only confuse you more in this state. You should eat instead.” 

“Right…” He says, although, not convinced. “Who are these guys, then?” He gestures to the other angels.

“My friends,” Seungmin says, thoughtfully. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Chan hide a smile into his shoulder. 

“Oh!” Changbin stands up, and bows shortly to each of the angels. They stare at him in confusion, Jeongin does a weird half-bow motion back. “I’m Seo Changbin - I’m sorry for thinking you weren’t real.”

Hyunjin laughs brightly, “I like this one! I’m Hyunjin - or my human name is as such, anyway. Me and Seungmin trained together. And this little cutie-” He pinches Jeongin’s cheek who fakes to punch him, “Is Jeongin. He’s still a fledgling - oh, you guys don’t know what that is - it just means he hasn’t been assigned a job yet, in this case, it means he hasn’t passed his Guardian exam yet.” 

“Even angels have exams?” Changbin whistles. Felix grimaces. Hating exams is universal, for good reason. 

“I’m Bang Chan. I’m uh…” Chan searches for a way to explain his role, but Jisung fills in.

“He’s our - shit,  _ their _ boss. And dad, kind of.” 

Changbin’s eyes grow wide, “Like - Dad as in…”

“No!” Chan laughs, ears growing red, “I’m not like -  _ God _ \- no way! I’m just in charge of this department.” 

“And how come Seungmin doesn’t have wings?” Felix asks, unsure if it is rude or not. Seungmin is the only one without his wings out, purely because wings + hoodies do  _ not _ work out.

“He does,” Minho says, “They’re pure white, unlike these shams.” 

“Hey!” Hyunjin and Jeongin parrot. 

“I have them phased because I’m not wearing my robes - they’d get stuck in the hoodie and it would be excruciatingly painful.” 

Minho scoots close to Seungmin, taking the opportunity of Changbin asking another question which Chan is happy to answer to whisper in his ear, “Your wings don’t hurt right now? Are they stiff?” 

Seungmin, admittedly, is a little surprised by the question. Just the question, not Minho’s breath tickling Seungmin’s ear. 

“No, they’re fine.” He assures.

Minho nods and looks back to the conversation. Changbin and Felix continue to ask questions, which the other angels are happy to answer, even Jisung chirping in once and a while. 

He finds himself considering Minho. He’s smiling politely and unassumingly as he always does, but there is something happy, something like  _ relief _ behind it. Seungmin can only imagine the weight that has been lifted off his shoulders. All the lying and trapezing around the truth can’t be good for the soul. But this: Minho’s friends around his table, eating cake and drinking a mix of beers and wines and soju, engaging in a world they had shunned him for, learning eagerly and with rapt attention, it is healing for him. Seungmin sees it clearly now.

Minho’s aura thrums with joy, gentle and small, but more noticeable than before. His eyes shine with life like Seungmin hadn’t seen as consistently before. 

He thinks this is significant. Something important has shifted, something that is pushing Minho in the right direction. He is healing, and while the cracks in his soul are mending, the little thing is growing. It is planting its roots in a strong familial environment and it is going to bloom, someday. He even sees his open, gleeful shine in his eyes when Minho converses with the other angels - there is no suspicion now. No fear. Now, Minho has all the cards he needs to win the game.

Seungmin jolts when he feels a tapping on his arm. Changbin is pushing a bottle into his arms, with an amused glint in his eyes. “Well?”

“Sorry - what did you say? I was thinking.”

“Yeah, about Minho!” Jisung whoops. Gabriel hits him square in the face. 

“I  _ said _ : You can drink beer or no?”

Seungmin kindly pushed the beer back into Changbin’s body, “We don’t drink or eat human food. We  _ can _ , given the human form and all - but it’s difficult.” 

“Is that why you were so mad about the strawberry milk over the phone?” Felix asks, a huge smile on his face. 

Seungmin sours and shoots Minho a look which makes the latter’s eyes roll. “I’ll buy you more, you big cockroach.” 

Changbin looks at the angels with sorrow, then back at the beer, like it was the worst news he had ever heard in his life.

“SUN NECTAR!” Jisung shouts, he grabs the nearest slip of silk and tugs. Hyunjin grabs for his belt before his robes fall down. “Jeongin! Go fetch the sun nectar!”

“Do  _ not _ fetch the-” Chan falls into a hopeless prayer when Jeongin takes off mid-sentence. “You’re not even in the Heavens anymore and you’re still giving me wrinkles.” He directs at Jisung.

“Looks like these kids are giving you enough wrinkles without me.” 

“How old even  _ are _ you?” Seungmin asks. He didn’t appreciate being called a ‘kid’, even by Chan he tolerates it only.

Jisung pauses, then turns his head comically slow, wide-eyed, to Felix. “I’m six hundred years old- oh my god! I’m a cradle-snatcher!” 

Felix hardly blinks and instead just pops a forkful of cake into Jisung’s gaping mouth and gives him a quick kiss on the cheek. “You don’t look a day over four-hundred.” 

Jeongin falls somewhere in the bathroom with a crash, and emerges red-faced and thoroughly wind-swept with an armful of sun nectar vials. 

“If the archangels found out-” 

“You’d take the fall for us,” Hyunjin preens.

“Yes,” Chan sighs, defeated, “I  _ would.” _

Hyunjin empathetically pats him on the back and takes a vial with the other hand, “You’re too good for these Heavens, boss. Now drink some sun nectar, it’ll ruffle your feathers.” 

Chan takes the vial, and sets it on the coffee table. “ _ You _ have a human to look after, in about… five seconds.” 

Hyunjin takes a sip of another vial that Jeongin passed wordlessly into his hands. “What are you-  _ oh ship-” _ He throws the vial into Seungmin’s arms and desperately fixes his robes where Jisung had disheveled them. “What kid plays  _ skydiving _ from the top of a bunk bed? Seriously…” He gives a quick wave to the humans. “Nice to meet you Changbin and Felix, duty calls-”

“What about me?” Jisung asks, face of innocence.

Hyunjin falters, then; “Bye Felix and Changbin!” Punctuated with a wave before he disappears on his way around the world to stop his human accidentally killing herself for what feels like the thirtieth time this week. 

Shortly after Hyunjin’s departure, Chan wrestles a vial from the fledgling's hands and drags him off to practice, both of them wishing the humans goodbyes in different levels of enthusiasm. Chan gives Seungmin a tight, proud hug before he departs, which Seungmin won’t admit, gives him more relief than he thought a hug from his  _ boss _ could. 

Chan wasn’t just his boss, though. Nor were Jeongin and Hyunjin just his co-angels - they were all his friends. Family, maybe. 

With the angels, bar Seungmin gone, and the humans conversing as a group of old friends… he feels awkward. Not that Seungmin particularly cares about being left out, but he doesn’t want to hover and intrude on Minho’s sparse social activities. He could leave his human form, out of sight, but Minho would still feel him, and the others would likely wonder why he disappeared which would only draw the attention away from the reminiscing they’re currently engaging in. 

Minho is on his second glass of wine, Felix and Jisung both working their way steady through Soju, and Changbin slowly though his beers. 

As subtle as possible, he taps on Minho’s shoulder.

“Hm?”   
“Can I borrow your smartphone?” Seungmin’s eyes are trained on the phone lying face-down on the table.

Minho, wordlessly, hands it over and tells him the password. It isn’t until Seungmin has opened the app and searched for the thing he was looking for, did Minho lean over and ask what he was using it for.

“Pornography,” He deadpans.

“Ahh…” Minho nods. “I bet you’re into the super kinky stuff.” 

Seungmin, as straight-faced as possible, looks up from the phone. “You do know that I can hear what  _ you  _ listen to at night?” 

Minho, surprisingly, turns beet red, “You- you  _ what?! _ ” He almost knocks over his wine in shock. “You- that’s a total invasion of privacy. What I do has nothing to do with you - in  _ both  _ senses of the word!” 

Seungmin finds himself laughing, loud, punctuated  _ ‘Ah-ha-ha-ha’s _ . It takes Minho a few seconds for realisation to dawn on his face.

“You suck. What are you doing though.” He says hastily, notably not looking at Seungmin. 

“I’m going to watch the baking show… if that’s okay?” He asks because he knows a human’s smartphone is an extension of themself, holding a lot of personal information which could easily be used and abused. Minho waves a hand ‘whatever - just don’t tell Felix who wins’. 

Too late. Felix comes bouncing over, a small flush covering his cheeks. He drops himself on the other side of Seungmin, easily looking over his shoulder at the phone. “Oh!” He squawks happily. “Is this the final?! I haven’t seen it yet!” He’s shaking Seungmins shoulder. “Can I watch it with you?” 

Seungmin nods, trying not to show how eager he is to share his favourite show. Minho watches and engages in it, sure. But Seungmin knows he likes it less than he pretends to… for some reason. Felix runs off while Seungmin sets the phone up against a bottle of (thankfully) untouched gin. 

When Felix returns, a vial of warm, shimmering liquid is handed to him. “Every time someone says an innuendo; someone almost drops something; and someone’s swear gets bleeped out - take a drink.” He explains.

“Are you torturing Seungmin with your ridiculous baking drinking game, now?” Changbin asks, amused. “You can say ‘no’, Seungmin.” 

Minho shakes his head and moves out of Seungmin and Felix’s space, letting them have that side of the coffee table to themselves. “Nah - he loves this show. I dunno what he’s going to do after this - he’s caught up on all seasons and the next one isn’t for like, nine months.”    
Seungmin almost drops the vial, “It’s  _ what?” _

Seungmin judges ‘almost dropping things’ a little generously to drown his sorrows, and Felix laughs and pats his back during the show. 

They are rooting for the same person to win, a Scottish teenager with a pleasant personality and an ambitious eye for detail. When he is announced winner, Seungmin can’t contain himself, and jumps up and down like a child, Felix is right beside him. They hug and jump in excitement, yelling without care for the neighbours. If the baby cries again - Seungmin will  _ personally _ sort it out. 

Elated, Seungmin and Felix drop back down to the floor and engage in an animated conversation about the entire season - all its highs and lows. 

On the other side of the table, Jisung is holding a Soju bottle against his lips- forgotten mid-drink. His eyes are trained on the sunshine that is Lee Felix, how his laugh cuts his attention so suddenly, how his face splits into a wide smile as he willingly invites himself into Seungmin’s passion, happily sharing something he loves with another. Jisung thinks Chan did a really, really fucking good job entwining him with Felix, because he knows he wouldn’t survive without his daily dose of human sunshine. 

Minho, amused, is resting his head in his hand, watching Seungmin. He knows that Seungmin loves this show - but his true infatuation and elation of it had never made such an honest appearance, around someone other than Minho nonetheless. Seungmin’s voice is rising dangerously into nasal territory like it does when he isn’t paying attention - he mocks the angel for it, but realistically, it is endearing beyond measure. 

Felix laughs at something Seungmin says, and falls into his shoulder a little as Felix tends to do - laughing with his entire body. Seungmin accepts it willingly. This warms something deep in Minho, knowing Felix approves of his angel feels… monumentous. Minho lets himself indulge in observing his angel for a little while longer. 

Changbin, pleased with himself, examines Gabriel. He purposefully picked out the deformed plushie - its eyes accidentally stitched looking opposite directions. It looks so endearingly stupid that he fell in love. Changbin raises his beer to cheers the stuffed pig, smiling to himself. He picked good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jisung: felix.. <3  
> minho: seungmin... <3  
> changbin: ... plushie pig <3 
> 
> me 2 changbin me 2
> 
> \-----
> 
> I hope I did Minsung's relationship okay here! I want it to be clear that although the relation was unhealthy, they have forgiven each other. It is in the past. They have no romantic feelings any longer!  
> If anything between minsung reads romantically please let me know so i can fix it.! 
> 
> I need to stop finishing fics at 2am ;-;
> 
> comments.. make me happy. i look forward waking up the night after i upload and seeing comments.. they really make my day :) ill kiss you square on the mouth


	9. 9. Post-sun nectar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> don't worry - the pig plushie makes an appearance   
> \--  
> I want to say a big, big thank you to everyone who has read this silly little ff this far. I am extremely busy in my life, between class, work, external studying and COVID (:   
> And yet, despite how stressed I am, I actually find writing this fic calming, relaxing and even enjoyable. And that's thanks to all the wonderful, lovely people who continuously give me their support in comments. Thank you all for taking the time from your day not only to read this, but to kudos, bookmark, subscribe and comment. Comments have made me squeal, laugh, cheered me on bad days, or devolved me into tears.  
> Special thanks to: jeonghoneys, cigs, gd208, binchansuperior, hyunjingum, z, nemuuri, kara_lovelymusic, asilxyy for your continued and ongoing support and leaving me comments that make my heart go BOOM BOOM.   
> Special kiss for all of you xo  
> (as always, this is not beta read and i am posting this at midnight so ZZZZZ)

Seungmin hadn’t drunk sun nectar in a long time, he had almost forgotten how it softens the edges of his vision. His angelic powers are softened with a languid sort of buzzing, the type that dilutes the smells of emotions in the air, the type that settles auras into little more than a discoloured halo. 

The night played on. The humans drank, played various card games, and ate well into the night. It was intriguing, watching the humans with such an integrated position in the group. 

When Felix and Minho took up a wrestling game, Seungmin was dumped with a lapful of Felix, who snuggled his head into Seungmin’s stomach like a puppy before righting himself.

Seungmin helps Changbin when he struggles to pop the cork on a bottle of wine. Changbin looks at him as if he hung the stars in the sky. 

Seungmin unwillingly scrolled through Jisung’s phone - which he had hooked up to a bluetooth speaker - to find some ‘good fucking tunes’ to dance to. He settled on something he found in an ‘80’s classics’ playlist, a decade which Seungmin remembers was renowned for its music. 

At some point in the night, Seungmin finds himself holding the pig - Gabriel - which had been swaddled in Changbin’s jacket, and is quietly ushered to rock him to sleep and put him to bed because it’s past his bedtime. With uncontrollable giggles, Seungmin did in fact, nurse the plushie and tuck him into Minho’s bed. When he comes out, he announces he gave him a special Angel kiss on the head and the boys all cheer.

Jisung fades first, falling into Felix’s shoulder, who wraps a steadying arm around his shoulder to keep him safe. Jisung’s cheek bulges against the shoulder. Felix didn’t seem to mind the drool on his top, but when Felix started having to pull his head back to will his eyes to open Seungmin guided both of them into Minho’s bed with only minor contest from the owner. 

Seungmin fetches them both glasses of water for the morning, and when he returns to the bedroom, Jisung is happily falling into sleep in the t-shirt he’d been wearing all night and his boxers. Felix, however, was struggling with his belt, his fingers slipping over the metal of the buckle. The noise of the water being placed on the bedside table drowsily announces Felix to Seugnmin’s returned presence. He fixes his gaze to the angel, and in an honest cry, says, “Help me?”

“I’m not good at clothes, Minho still has to button things for me sometimes.”

Felix pouts and continues to struggle for a bit. Even with his own clouded state, Seungmin hates to see Felix struggle, so he gently pushes Felix down onto the bed and falls to his knees to work on unbuckling the belt.

“Are you planning on ravishing Felix right here on my bed?” Minho falls through the door, cheshire-cat grin on his face. This alerts Jisung to the situation unfolding beside him, who unhappily kicks at Felix.

“Cheat on me later, I’m trying to sleep.” His voice is a little slurred.

Felix laughs and cups Seungmin’s face, bringing his face uncomfortably close. Before Seungmin can really pull away, time moving too slow to really comprehend what’s happening, Felix nuzzles their noses together. 

“If you’re going to kiss him, make it a good show, at least,” Minho makes himself comfortable on the floor. “Changbin! Felix and Seungmin are gonna make out!” 

A telltale series of thumps and the sound of furniture being pushed out of the way is followed by Changbin gearing through the table so fast he trips over Minho’s sprawled body and falls to the floor. Minho starts playing his ass like the bongos. Changbin takes his position gracefully and holds his head up with his hands, eyes sparkling. He looks way too cute to be the same person who stormed out of the apartment earlier in the day.

“I’m not going to kiss Felix,” Seungmin says, shaking his head at the antics. 

“You should - he’s a good kisser,” Changbin says. Felix nods. 

In his education, he had been taught that while humans aren’t prudent with kisses, different cultures even using them as greetings,  _ making out _ was definitely reserved for private couples. Connected only with romantic or sexual ties, seen as cheating if done with others outside a predetermined relationship. However, either the times are changing and the angelic teachings are yet to catch up, or this friend group was just really, really odd. Minho unprovoked makes a loud noise and tries to bite Changbin’s shoulder because ‘he looks like a delicious meal’. 

Maybe this friend group is just odd.

Minho had told him one evening, some weeks ago, when he was missing his friends particularly hard, some of their shenanigans. One part of which had stuck in Seungmin’s mind. They had all made out with each other. They didn’t see it as romantic, sexual, or anything of the sort. Apparently, it was they were discussing their kissing technique and figured it would be easier to show rather than tell. So there, in Changbin’s college dorm, squeezed together in a trio on a bed only designed for an uno - they took turns making out with each other. 

Minho had laughed at Seungmin’s red face. Seungmin had struggled to fight the image of the three friends… - anyway. 

“He doesn’t have to kiss Felix if he doesn’t want to,” Changbin says. Seungmin almost thanks him before, “Although it’s really fucking weird not wanting to kiss Felix. Look at him!” 

Seungmin did. Felix had relaxed from Seungmin’s personal space a little, although his hands were still cupping his face. Felix was beautiful, sure. Cute, even. A sort of approachable type of attractiveness - maybe Seungmin is starting to understand the concept of attractiveness on a more personal level rather than the basic teachings of proportions and all the boring parts of his training. His lips are chapped. Soft pink, raw red in a piece where Felix had been chewing. There, Seungmin notices a spec of blood. 

“Your lip is bleeding.” Seungmin turns to look for the tissues Minho keeps beside his bed, but Felix brings his face back to his.

“Angel kiss it better?” Felix asks softly. His eyes are genuine, his smile small and small giggles escaping. 

Jisung is watching too, albeit sleepily. He seems interested, amused even. Seungmin looks to Minho for help.

“I don’t know how,” He says. Minho’s posture changes slightly, but suddenly. Seungmin can hardly scent it, but something in the air shifts, but that’s hardly comparable to the shift in his human’s eyes. Growing dark, his attention hyperfocused on Seungmin. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.” Minho makes to move, but stalls when Felix drops his hands from Seungmin’s face and flops back onto the bed, crushing Jisung’s legs. 

“You should have said, you should save it for someone special-” He cuts himself off laughing, “And sober.” 

Seungmin finally manages to undo the foxing belt and tugs it off, and unlike to how Felix wiggles out of his pants and lets them crumple to the ground, Seungmin folds the belt meaningfully over the chair of Minho’s desk - feeling the other’s eyes on him all the while. 

Jisung scolds Felix for pushing his cold feet against his legs but doesn’t make any motion to stop him. Minho rolls Changbin off his legs and pulls Seungmin out of his room by the strings of his hoodie, causing the hood to tighten over his face.

“Stop - I can’t see!” Seungmin narrowly misses colliding his hip into the doorframe. Minho just continued to awkwardly lead him until he turns Seungmin around and pushes him. Seungmin reaches out in a panic when the back of his knees collide with something. He lands on the sofa gracelessly, and furiously tugs his hoodie open. 

Minho’s eyes drawl over him from above, heavy and labeled with wine, beer, soju and a multitude of other concoctions. “You look good like that,” He says. His words are a little slurred, but they pack a punch.

Seungmin feels a terrible sensation in his gut which feels a lot like doing too many loop-de-loops in a game of flutterby. 

“Like what?” He manages. 

Minho leans over, delicate fingers taking the strings of his hoodie and expertly tying them into a little bow. He pats it, although his hand drags a little longer on his chest than needs be. “Wearing my clothes. Human clothes. They look good on you.” Minho hums to himself, straightening a cuff here, flattening a wrinkle there, fretting over Seungmin’s apparel like a mother hen, rather heavy handed. “Are they comfortable?” Minho steadies himself when he over balances and almost falls. Seungmin would have caught him anyway. 

“Sometimes. They’re warm and feel nice on my skin. But they’re not good for my wings.” Seungmin rubs his legs together, “And it feels odd wearing unbreathable things like pants.” 

Minho doesn’t respond for a long, long minute. Gaze focused elsewhere. Eventually he blinks his gaze back up to Seungmin, lips gnawed in a  _ ‘hm?’ _ . “I like you in your robes, too. They…. They suit you, somehow.” 

“Thank you,” Seungmin says genuinely. He can’t fight the dopey grin that breaks on his face, and Minho mirrors it. 

Changbin and Minho are quick and efficient setting up the ( _ not stolen) _ blow up mattress. Changbin had taken the liberty to bring pillows and a blanket, which Minho immediately took upon himself to claim as his own. With the lights off, bar the lamp (which miraculously wasn’t broken), Seungmin sat cross-legged on the sofa as Minho and Changbin melted into the mattress. It came naturally, even with Minho’s half-hearted disputes at sharing a bed with Changbin, it was evident that the two had done this many times before. 

Changbin’s voice breaks the silent, rough and caked with lethargy. “Do you have somewhere to sleep, Seungmin?”

“He’ll just hover and watch us sleep.” 

Seungmin rolls his eyes and even though Minho can’t see in this level of darkness, he is sure he felt it. “I don’t  _ watch _ you sleep.”

“Hmm? What do you normally do then?” 

Seungmin shrugs. “Read sometimes. Or watch television if your electric bill isn’t too high-” Changbin thanks him for his consideration of Changbin’s bank balance, “-sometimes if you’re in a deep sleep, I visit Jeongin and Hyunjin in the gardens.” 

“And tonight?” 

“I’ll probably just go outside,” Seungmin looks out into the darkness, the little boxes of light from neighbouring apartments like little boxes of life in the distance. “The moon is nice tonight.” 

“Why don’t you just sleep on the sofa?” Changbin asks.

“I don’t sleep.”

Changbin’s eyebrows furrow in deep thought. “So you don’t need to sleep - but you don’t need to  _ eat _ either, but you  _ can _ if you try. Can you sleep?” 

Seungmin freezes, and replies honestly, “I’ve never tried. I’ve never had a need to try.” 

“Tryyyyyyyy it-” Minho keens, “Go on, Minnie - fall unconscious. Have sweet dreams.” 

Seungmin laughs and stretches his aching muscles - Sun Nectar had a strange effect on his  _ human _ form. Mainly a little ache and pain, nothing too serious. “Dreams are for humans. Not angels. I’ve seen enough of people’s dreams to last a lifetime.” 

Changbin shoots up, then promptly falls back down with a sickly groan. “Angels can see our dreams?” He sounds confused, laced with mild concern - although that could be fighting back the urge to vomit. 

Minho, on the other hand, looks downright distraught as his voice seems to seek out Seungmin. “That’s not right - there’s no way-” He blabbers. Seungmin decides to cut him off.

“The angels within the Dream Department will see the state of your soul, and give you a dream which you need to see that night. Sometimes they’re a warning, or an omen. Sometimes they’re a gentle push in the right direction, and sometimes their entire purpose is to be weird and entertaining enough to cheer the spirits a little.” Seungmin slips down on the sofa, his legs spreading and arms falling limp, the memories of his past job flooding his brain. “I hated giving the children nightmares.” 

“You did that? Why?” Changbin asks.

“If they have good parents, a nightmare can build the child and parental unit’s relationship through comfort and teaches the child that their parents are supportive and loving. It establishes a power dynamic and provides children with the assurance of their comfort and safety. If the parents aren’t so good… well… it’s a cruel but necessary lesson on independence.” 

“So you know what dreams mean?” 

Seungmin nods in lieu of an answer, shifting his weight to try and ease some of the angelic pressure from his wings. It doesn’t help much.

“Sometimes I have dreams that my teeth fall out-” Seungmin cuts Changbin off with a sigh.

“I always hated those dreams. I never gave anyone those dreams - they have too many meanings: references to failing communication, vanity complexes, health fears, embarrassment- I could go on four hours. It’s a lazy angel’s call-out when it’s almost the end of a shift and they’ve been assigned one last human with a difficult soul and they don’t have the time or patience to figure out a  _ proper _ dream to give them.” Seungmin rubs his hand over his face. “Foxing  _ teeth _ …” 

“I want to file a complaint to your boss then-” Seungmin could imagine Changbin sitting down seriously with Chan, filing an non-existent complaint form for the angel who gave him a lazy dream. “BANG CHAN!”

Seungmin lurches off the sofa and covers Changbin’s mouth. He shushes him. Chan could hear them, probably. He’s got ears everywhere. 

“How do you know that you wouldn’t dream if you slept? Your body is human right now, no?” Minho asks, after pinching Changbin harshly for yelling in his apartment. The last thing he needs is a noise complaint. 

Seungmin flexes his shoulder blades uncomfortably. “I suppose I don’t.” But Minho is no longer engaged with the conversation. Instead, Minho leans over Changbin and puts his fingers on Seungmin’s shoulder and starts kneading. 

“You can let your wings out if they’re hurting.” Minho tilts his head to the direction of the folded throw-blanket over the couch. The one that Seungmin usually wraps around his naked torso when his wings are out.

“I could put my robes back on-” Seungmin’s motions are halted with Minho yanking back down by his hoodie strings. Seungmin huffs and loosens his hood again. “Stop doing that. Changbin won’t mind if my wings are out?”

“Changbin is pretty much game for anything right now,” Minho knocks his head against the other boy’s, “Right?”

Changbin fists the air, “Yeah!” He growls. Seungmin shushes him again, although despite Minho’s earlier complaint about noise, Minho follows Changbin’s lead, shouting in encouragement. His lips pull into the sharp degree they sometimes do. The moonlight catches in his eyes, unfocused and bleary from the alcohol, the earring catching the moon’s rays. Oh, moon - she’s doing this on purpose. 

Minho seems to absorb the moonlight, glowing under her rays. Changbin, despite sitting in the same light, doesn’t attract the eye nearly as much. 

The cheekbones graft heavy shadows. The sculpted nose cuts the darkness of the night with its profile. The tanned skin beams milky under Her moonlight. If Seungmin concentrates, the purple whisping around Minho’s presence grafts gently into Changbin’s red. The blurred ties between the two dancing happily at the close proximity. A sudden flash blinds Seungmin, followed by Minho’s accusing voice.

“What are you doing? Why are you taking pictures of Seungmin?” 

Changbin cackles, “He is so  _ cute _ .” Changbin reaches out to pinch his cheek, but Seungmin gently but firmly deflects it. “Cutie Seungminne~” 

“He’s gonna smite you.”

“I don’t have the power to smite people,” Seungmin rolls his eyes. 

“He’s lying - he’s gonna shoot lightning bolts - want me to show you?” Minho begins jabbing Changbin’s tummy. Seungmin leaves the two to rustle with each other to fetch them some water to hopefully ward off a good amount of potential hangover in the morning. Seungmin notes the various bottles that are overflowing from Minho’s recycling bin beside the fridge. Hm. Maybe it’s a lost cause. 

He carefully sets the water on the coffee table, while Minho and Changbin continue to try and wrestle with their drooping eyes and heavy arms. Seungmin makes his way to the bathroom, concentrating on his corporeality as he accidentally steps through the floor. He washes his face with cold water, letting the sharpness jerk him back into some sense of sobriety (although it doesn’t work much). Carefully, Seungmin peels off the hoodie and hangs it on the hook at the door. His torso bare, the fluorescent light casting unflattering shadows on his skin, Seungmin rolls his shoulders and his neck, trying to loosen his muscles. He watches with a degree of curiosity as he sees how they shift under his skin. 

He’d always found the human form clumsy, a poorly evolved mess of things that broke far too easily, healed far too slowly, and sometimes seemed to stop functioning for no good reason at all. So many humans with chronic pain, appendicitis, endometritis, all these things which are nothing more than a product of a poorly designed state of the human body. How could these delicate creatures be of so much importance? 

Seungmin thinks how Minho stretches before his workouts - sat on the floor, slowly bringing his upper body to meet his lower body. Seungmin tried to copy, but didn’t make it nearly as far. Or when Minho showed him the silver glint of a surgery scar on his stomach, he saw it as an imperfection that he wishes had healed a little cleaner. To Seungmin, he saw how hard his body worked to heal itself up. The shiny silver is a sign of survival, of victory. 

Seungmin traces the linings of his own human form. The piercing sharpness of his collarbones, the gaps of his ribs he can count only if he presses his fingers there, the taught skin around his midriff, the small mole on his shoulder. Maybe he begins to understand the beauty of the human form. Maybe he can understand why humans think they see divinity in each other’s faces.

Seungmin takes a deep breath, and lets his wings and halo phase into corporeality. He feels the weight on them heavy on his shoulder blades, even the weight of his empty halo pressuring the top of his head. He spends a decent amount of time stretching them, although not a task he can do fully in the small space of the bathroom. He rolls his shoulders and twitches the various muscles in his wings. They’re achy, but not enough to hinder him. A night of stretching and fixing his feathers should settle the pain. 

When he leaves the bathroom, he does so with the light blanket wrapped under the backs of his wings and held carefully to his front to cover as much as he could. He wasn’t shy of his human form by any means, it is just a body, after all. But Minho had scolded him severely after the first dis-robing incident. Human decency is a thing which Seungmin has to adhere to now, apparently. 

When Seungmin returns to the living space, Minho and Changbin are in various stages of sleep, Minho would probably have a significant place on the Glasgow Coma Scale. Mouth open, light snoring filling the air. Seungmin fixes the sideways blanket - covering their entwined ankles and feet. He reaches over, like some sort of  _ parent _ , and removes Minho’s jewellery. Earrings hurt to sleep in, and although Minho sleeps occasionally in his necklaces, the choking hazard stresses Seungmin out. He sets the silver things on the coffee table and does the same for Changbin. When he successfully removes Changbin’s chain bracelet, he meets dark eyes examining him - his  _ wings. _

Having someone other than Minho see his wings feels…. Weird. If Chan says to trust them, there isn’t a part of Seungmin’s body which would have any reason to hold disbelief. Having a human, untouched by the angelic world, staring at his wings niggles at his brain. For lack of anything better to do, Seungmin says, “I’m stealing your jewellery.” 

“Are you going to sell it into the pawn shop?” Seungmin nods. “Don’t bother with Minho’s then - he buys the cheap shit. Can I touch them?” His eyes flicker to the white feathers. The moonlight catches them, along with his essence, they shimmer with gold-silver. They need to be groomed, Seungmin hated when his essence coated his wings. 

The question makes Seungmin start. The chain makes a heavy clunk when he drops it on the table. It isn’t  _ weird _ \- per say. Touching wings isn't taboo or anything, he had helped Hyunjin settle his feathers on many occasions. But they’re sensitive, easy to damage.

“Maybe tomorrow,” He says. “My feathers are delicate and easily bent or broken… and you’re…”

“Drunk?” Changbin offers with a wink and a sloppy finger-gun. “Gotcha.” 

Seungmin smiles at the ease of which Changbin takes the rejection and settles himself on the sofa. Changbin follows him with his eyes, albeit a lot more languidly than before. “You don’t mind if I stretch them, do you? I wouldn’t want to distract you from your sleep.”

Changbin answered with his eyes falling shut. He hums and lets Seungmin take upon the task of stretching his wings, rolling them this way and that, taking some of the feathers he could reach into his hands and fixing where they had wrongly overlapped. 

Suddenly, Changbin’s rumbling voice interrupts him. “You’ll be good for Minho, right?” His voice is levelled, but beneath the sun nectar - Seungmin can still feel the pleading there. The question is short, light, as though Changbin was asking nothing more than Seungmin’s favourite colour, but the heaviness is there, deep down. Seungmin can’t blame Changbin for his anxieties. It makes sense, given the damage endured from his last angel. He holds no animosity for Jisung, of course. For an angel to willingly fall for the sake of their human…. It speaks more for Jisung’s character than any other of his poor actions.

“If he lets me,” Seungmin replies. “If he lets me… I’ll help him.” 

There is a long pause, so long that Seungmin thought Changbin may have fallen asleep before Seungmin got his response.

“And if he doesn’t let you?” 

“I’ll still be by his side.” It’s an immediate response. Changbin settles into the mattress, pleased with Seungmin’s assurance. 

“Goodnight, Seungmin.” 

“Sleep well, Changbin.” 

======

Mysteriously - or maybe  _ not  _ so mysteriously - Jisung is immune to hangovers. Seungmin himself, from the sun nectar, is a little achy and foggy-minded. Jisung is up early, having woken Changbin and Minho with a cheery ‘good morning~’ before he helped himself to the liberties of using the shower. Minho grumpily downed the water Seungmin had left out for him before falling back into the sheets. 

After the second act of Jisung’s shower concert, Felix waddles out of the bedroom, wrapped in Minho’s sheets, drops them at the bathroom door and lets himself in. 

“They better not have shower sex,” Minho grumbles. Felix comes out some minutes later with a dewy clean face and a fresh mouth and resumes his position bundled in the sheets. He waddles over to the mattress, not even greeting Changbin and Minho before falling in the middle of the two. 

Changbin groans and makes room for Felix, half of his body teetering off the mattress. Minho wiggles himself to lie on top of Felix to make room. “You stink of sex,” Minho lies. 

“Must have picked it up from your sheets,” Felix mumbles. His voice has such morning timbre that it registers with some of Seungmin’s feathers and makes them flutter. He has no idea what  _ those _ ones even do. 

“Seungminnie,” Changbin whines, voice  _ very much _ on the other end of the scale. He reaches up to wave Seungmin over. Seungmin does, and crouches by his side, carefully holding the blanket over his chest. “Turn off the sun.” 

Seungmin apologises to the Sun for his disrespect. “I can’t do that-” Changbin whines and tugs at Seungmin’s blanket. Seungmin hops up and yanks the blanket from his grasp. “But I  _ can _ do this.” Seungmin tugs on the curtains and closes them enough to hide the strongest of the sun’s rays without muting her completely. Seungmin was thankful that Minho - no longer needing to try and ward off angels with his ‘soulless’ persona, was able to decorate a little more. Even if the curtains were ugly. 

“Seungmin, come here so I can kiss you.” Changbin closes his eyes and makes an obnoxious kissing face. At this point, Jisung exits the bathroom, hair dripping and a towel around his neck, scrunching into his hair in the same way Minho does. He presses a finger to his lips and shushes Seungmin - not that he was going to say anything - then presses two fingers in a mimic of a kiss against Changbin’s puckered lips. Changbin jerks suddenly and throws himself back with enough force to knock Felix, who in turn accidentally sends Minho rolling onto the floor. 

“What the fuck-” Minho grimaces around the room at Jisung and even Seungmin’s chittering laughter. 

“Not funny! I thought Seungmin kissed me-”

“Why would you scream? Seungmin is sexy,” Jisung says, playfully tugging Seungmin’s blanket. Seungmin swipes at him and keeps his other hand firmly secured in the sheet. 

“My vessel is perfectly average.”

Jisung pulls back and scans Seungmin up and down, then laughs. “That’s what they told me too - and look at me.” He flips his hair. Water droplets hit Seungmin in the face. “I’m handsome. I’m telling you guys-” He addresses the puddle of humans on the floor, “-The angels that make our human forms have a pretty loose definition of ‘average’.” 

Seungmin makes to argue, but then considers Hyunjin’s form. Maybe Jisung has a point. 

Minho blinks in angry-confusion, barely in the land of the living, “What the fuck is he talking about.” 

“Sexy Seungmin,” Felix replies, muffled by blankets. 

Minho blinks aggressively at the Felix-shaped lump, then over to Seungmin. His eyes break into some level of lucidity. His eyes fall onto Seungmin’s collarbones and for the first time, Seungmin feels a little self-conscious in his human form. After a few uncomfortable moments, Minho shuts his mouth, wets his dry lips and gathers himself up. “I’m going to the shower.” 

On his way past, he pulls Jisung into his space by the front of his shirt, “If you used my expensive shampoo-” 

“No! No! I didn’t, I used the shitty guest shampoo - I promise.” 

“The one in the-”

“Yes, the pink bottle,” Jisung confirms hastily. “I wouldn’t go near the banana-scented one, I don’t want to die.” 

Approving of the response, Minho sends him a sweet smile and fixes the wrinkles in his shirt. When Minho leaves, Jisung turns to Changbin with wide eyes. “What is with him and that shampoo - he’s insane.”

“What’s mine is Minho’s, and what’s Minho’s is Minho’s,” Changbin says sagely. Felix hums in agreement. 

Seungmin moves a wayward strand of hair out of his eyes, a faint smell of banana still from the haircut and subsequent shampoo and deep condition Minho had given him some days ago. 

Minho’s shower is a lot quieter than Jisung’s, although it wasn’t terribly uncommon to hear Minho humming from the shower, he didn’t grace Seungmin with the sound on this particular morning. Seungmin resumes stretching his wings out, no longer worried about waking the others up with his shifting and moving. He feels the sun nectar leaving his body, draining and letting itself seep out through Seungmin’s system. Seungmin shakes his feathers and a whirlwind of gold-silver essence settles into the carpet.

Minho’s gonna kill him. Seungmin sneezes and adds more to the mess.

“If you add talcum powder on the carpet and then use the vacuum it lifts.” Jisung is behind him, crouched on his hunkers. “Your feathers are ruffled.” 

Seungmin tries to twist to look at the ones closest to his back, but his neck protests. Jisung places a gentle hand on his neck and turns his head forward.

“Do you want me to smooth them out?” 

“Are you any good at it?” Seungmin asks, although it wouldn’t really matter, he’d be better at it than Seungmin is, anyway. 

With a snort, Jisung starts on the innermost feathers, the ones that tickle his back. He pushes the blanket down a little so he can see his handiwork more. It feels nice to have someone else do this for him - it feels like an age since he last felt Hyunjin’s delicate fingers twining their way through his feathers. 

“Minho used to make me keep them hidden,” Jisung says. Seungmin spares him a glance, but his face is cheerful enough. “I would only be able to stretch them in the dead of night, when Minho was deep enough in his sleep for me to hop out of bed and stretch them without rousing him. I learned to do this quickly - three minutes tops and I would be done.” 

Seungmin takes the better part of an hour to do his own. 

Surprisingly, Seungmin finds himself relaxing into Jisung’s touch. He’s quick, deft, but not without care. It’s obvious that he’s done this countless times. Jisung ushers him to lie on his front, so he can lift the underside of his wings and do those there. Wings are sensitive, and Seungmin even finds himself tense when Hyunjin does the most sensitive parts, the parts which require a bit of manhandling, but when Jisung lifts his wing and lets it rest heavily on his shoulder while he goes at it, Seungmin relaxes completely. 

Seungmin hadn’t even realised he’d let his eyes close until the telltale smell of vanilla gets stronger. He peeks over his shoulder and sure enough, Felix and Changbin are leaning over Jisung, watching the scene with bright, curious eyes. Felix’s scent is pleasant.

“They’re beautiful,” Felix says, eyes bright. His hand drops to Jisung’s back and rubs there. 

Seungmin feels his face glowing red under the eyes and praise. He mumbles a ‘thank you’ into his arm. 

Jisung continues to settle his feathers with the new audience, talking them through each grouping of feathers with a scary degree of recollection. “This area is responsible for phasing, so if I twisted these the wrong way, Seungmin could fall through the floor and scare the life out of the married couple that live downstairs,” The feathers are smoothed carefully; “This grouping is responsible for his olfactory senses, so if i twisted these two over, the smells of happiness would be focused on and he could sniff someone’s good day out from a mile away; all along the ridge are mainly for stability when flying and -” Jisung stops at a patch of feathers. “Seungmin, how’s Angel Radio?” 

“Excuse me?”

“Uh -” Jisung scrunches his face up to recall the word, “The communication network. Do you have trouble with it?” 

“Yes,” Seungmin blinks, “How did you know?”

“You have an extra feather here,” Jisung says, lightly pulling a feather enough for Seungmin to feel it, “I used to have an extra feather on my Hearing grouping, everything was so  _ loud _ . I would have to pluck it out every couple of weeks.” Jisung pulls a little harder to ask for permission and Seungmin, a little speechless, nods.

All of  _ that _ over a foxing feather?

“Watch this-” Jisung says with a little too much cheek for Seungmin’s liking - then pulls. Seungmin suddenly sneezes  _ loud _ , and a huge wave of essence flies into the air. 

“Seriously? Do you have hay fever or something?” Minho sighs from the living space, fresh and clean-looking from the shower. “This guy is never finished sneezing on my shit.” 

Curiously, Minho quickly dips his head and sticks his face into the fridge, loudly announcing that he’s hungry. Seungmin doesn’t follow him with his eyes, because curiously enough, his face is dusted with a little more red. 

====

Jisung slapped Seungmin’s hand from his head. It wasn’t his fault that the hat Minho let him borrow was making his head itch. The weather had taken a turn, and although Seungmin was fairly adept to handling any type of weather, his human form had become more and more sensitive with the more it was used. So now he’s in the streets, braving the bitter wind wrapped in Changbin’s long duffle coat, Felix’s scarf and Minho’s hat.

Seungmin feels like a blanket made up entirely of patches of the humans. He has nothing he  _ owns _ , per say. But he has his own drawer in Minho’s dresser - composed entirely of Minho’s clothes that are either too loose or too old for Minho to wear. He has his own television shows that he watches while Minho sleeps, which Minho had to instruct him how to access all these different technologies through the little remote control. He has his own name, chosen for him by Chan at the beginning of his training. 

It’s an odd feeling to have - and it’s not a good one. He feels… lacking. As an angel, Seungmin is entirely whole (disregarding his halo), he has his own ‘room’, his own possessions, his own games and robes. But as a human… there’s something missing. 

Maybe Seungmin is spending too much time in his human form, linking it too much to his identity. 

“Hey - you listening?” Seungmin blinks and flinches when he finally notices Jisung waving his hand in front of his face.

“Sorry, I was distracted, what were you saying?” 

Jisung only sighed and pulled him by the sleeve in the direction of a store. Jisung’s pull was harder than he expected and he almost stumbled. 

“What are we stopping here for? The coffee shop is two blocks East.”

“Felix always craves brownie bites when he’s hungover,” He says. The blast of hot air makes the blood rush to Seungmin’s face. He pulls off the awful hat and stuffs it into his pocket. “And Minho usually craves salty foods - like these-” Jisung tosses Seungmin a bag of chips. Seungmin carries it carefully without looking at it. 

Jisung and Seungmin were eagerly nominated by the remaining humans to go on a coffee run. Seungmin tried to protest - he wasn’t entirely comfortable going outside without Minho, nor leaving Minho alone - but his stomach settled his qualms. Minho would be safe with Changbin and Felix, that much is for sure. So he accepted reluctantly, and Jisung accepted enthusiastically as Changbin offered his credit card.

He follows Jisung around the store as he picks up snacks and even some proper food for lunch. Some pre-chopped vegetables, noodles and some strange flavour packets. Seungmin allows Jisung to use his arms as a basket. 

“These are Felix’s favourite,” Jisung is holding a box of strawberry flavoured jellies. They’re offensively pink, Seungmin thinks. “But he’s trying to cut down on sugar…” Jisung gnaws his lip as he contemplates buying it. “He would  _ love _ this, it would knock his hangover right out of his skull…”

“But you don’t want to impede his progress on his diet change?”

Jisung threw an arm over his eyes and groaned, “Oh, Seungmin, what choices I face!” Despite his grandeur, he puts the jelly back and instead picks up some pre-cut mango in the next aisle over. He’s chatting amiably about Felix and his weird affinity for fruit. Apparently, he eats more fruit than should be legally allowed, and Jisung is worried all the acid is going to erode his teeth. Seungmin interrupts him mid-sentence.

“You’re happy you fell.” It is an observation, but an important one to vocalise. Seungmin is a little surprised that he said it - but it’s true. Jisung is chirping happily about the foods Felix likes, the drinks Minho used to be obsessed with, the recent snacks that he had discovered were  _ perfect _ for late night move-binges. All perfectly little insignificant human things, yet Jisung eagerly praises them as if they are the most important thing in all of the Heavens to him - and maybe they are. 

Jisung turns around, surprised, eyes wide and cheeks puffed.

“Yes? Why? That’s such a random thing to say when I’m holding these clementines, you know.” 

“I just -” Seungmind suddenly feels a little sheepish to have brought it up, but Jisung eggs him on with his clementines, “Falling is worse than  _ death. _ ” He whispers. 

Jisung puts the clementines back, then squeezes another one to test its ripeness. “Meh.” He says. 

A little underwhelming of a response, which leaves Seungmin a little disappointed. It takes a few moments of silence for Jisung to catch onto Seungmin’s mood. “Oh - this is like a  _ talk. _ You should have said.” 

“What else would it be?” Seungmin asks genuinely. 

“Nevermind,” Jisung passes him a pair of clementines. “It depends on the angel, I guess. Some would see being stripped of their wings and becoming human demoralising. For me it was…” It takes Jisung a heavy moment to find his words, but when he does, his shoulders relax and a somber smile crosses his face. “It was a second chance. For both of us.” 

Seungmin nods. Jisung offers to buy him some of the strawberry milk he’d been not-so-subtly eyeing up everytime they walk past it. Seungmin almost mentions that he’s using Changbin’s card - but he doesn't want to offset the chance of his strawberry milk. Jisung pays for the groceries and splits the load with Seungmin. Although Seungmin pouts when he pushes him to put his hat back on. 

“I’m happy now,” Jisung’s words are almost taken by the wind. 

“You’ll die in sixty years or so,” Seungmin says. He realises it may have been sharp, or even rude, but Jisung only snorts. 

“You really are blunt, huh? No wonder they matched you with Minho.” Jisung continues on before Seungmin can ask him what  _ exactly _ he means by that. “I’m fine with that. I don’t think about the big picture any more. No more - oh, shit, Minho is about to make a friend - is this friend a good influence? What will they do for him twenty years down the line? How will this addition to his social circle affect his choices for the rest of his life? It’s more…” Jisung swings the bag, “Do I buy cola or lemonade? Do I want to watch a movie or take a nap? Life is slower, so I’m okay if it’s shorter.” 

Seungmin nods wordlessly. He can see the appeal. He shakes the box of his strawberry milk and chuckles at the googly eyes. At the pit of his stomach, he worries about it. He  _ shouldn’t  _ see the appeal. A lifetime of omens about felled angels, blanketed by a single statement from Jisung. It was too easy. 

Today is the day for peculiar questions.

Jisung suddenly says a statement so left field, that Seungmin has to ask him to repeat himself twice. They’re waiting for their coffee. Seungmin’s palms have little indents in them from the weight of the bag. Jisung too, as he fiddles obsessively with trying to make the weight comfortable as he repeats the statement. 

“I’m not mad at you for being Minho’s guardian angel.” 

Seungmin can hardly contain his confusion. His head tips to the side. He gathers his thoughts and tries to understand where  _ that _ came out of. After some soul searching, he comes up empty. “Why would you be?” 

“I shouldn’t.”

“Then why bring it up at all?” Seungmin is only further puzzled by Jisung’s frustration. Jisung runs a hand through his hair and groans.  _ Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything… _ he whispers. Seungmin remains pertinent. 

“I don’t know - okay! It’s a weird situation… I don’t know what you’re thinking. Hell, I barely know what  _ I  _ think about this whole… thing!” 

Seungmin is thankful that the cafe is empty bar the barista, who seems more interested in examining Jisungs very odd and very  _ specific _ order than listening to their conversation. The size of the sticker doesn’t even fit on the cup. 

“I usually say what’s on my mind, so I’m not hiding anything insidious,” Seungmin says, perfectly content for the conversation to end there, but Jisung nods shortly and gnaws on his already chapped lips. “You want to know what I’m thinking, don’t you?”

“If I could crawl into your brain right now, I would,” Jisung says solemnly. 

“I think…” Seungmin gathers his thoughts. He’s thinking a  _ lot _ of things. Most of which he doesn’t feel ready to unpack - or at least, not with Jisung. He settles on the two things which ring as important, the two thoughts that are glowing and sparkling and all these warm things. “I think you’re happy now, and I think Minho is too.” 

Jisung’s eyes blow wide, and a grin splits his face. “You do?” 

Seungmin thinks of Minho’s aura, small, but eager to grow. He thinks of his little soul, damaged but making every effort to heal. “I do.” 

Jisung’s movements have a dance to them when he collects the coffee orders and thanks the barista. Seungmin opens the door for him and Jisung waits for him before they start their trek home. 

“Do you ever wish that you were there from the start? That he was made from your essence?” Jisung asks curiously. The heavy tone is gone, Seungmin can only breathe a sigh of relief at that. 

“The essence thing is a fairy tale.” 

Jisung shrugs. “A lot of things are a lot of things.” Seungmin doesn’t bother to ask him what that even means. Sometimes he thinks Jisung says obscure things just to avoid having to explain himself. 

“If you consider the hypotheticals, you ignore the current problem,” He says. Jisung stares blankly. “It is what it is.” He translates. 

Before they get to Minho’s apartment, Jisung stops Seungmin’s hand from meeting the doorhandle. Seungmin shoots him a side glance.

“I’m glad it’s you.” He says, voice laced with something akin to reverence. “I’m glad I found him again. I’m glad  _ you’re _ his angel. I think you’re going to do it.”

“Do what?”

Jisung’s face splits into a smile. “I think you’re gonna save the world, Kim Seungmin.” 

When they wrestle their way into Minho’s apartment, Minho is the first to look up. He’s in his lounge-wear, arms rolled up to his elbows as he applies a face-mask onto Felix. His own face is coated in a white-blue cream. There’s little specs of it in his hair.

When Seungmin pulls the bag of chips out of the bag, his face breaks into a smile, which he immediately tries to quash, but the strength of it has already cracked the hardening mask. 

“Di ‘ou et sawerry mil?” 

“Pardon?” Seungmin laughs.

Minho makes a little box with his hands and mimics Seungmin drinking from the strawberry milk.

“I do  _ not _ cross my eyes when I drink,” Seungmin says defiantly, handing Jisung the groceries to put away. 

“You cross your eyes when you concentrate.” Jisung calls out from the kitchen.

“No I don’t!”

“Your eyes were a little crossed when you were doing your feather-thing,” Changbin adds. 

Seungmin can’t even make a good comeback. Minho’s loud, shameless cackling makes his mind run blank. His human is there: hungover; hair frazzled and unstyled, pushed back with a hairband; in sloppy clothes; with a strange mask on his face. Seungmin understands human beauty. 

His Minho is beautiful. Maybe Seungmin is starting to understand a little more about this whole ‘saving the world’ business. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!  
> not going to lie... i'm not sure *exactly* where i'm going with this now.. so any speculation would be greatly appreciated!!   
> (or even requests outside of this fic, i need practise writing fics less than 50,000 words LOL)


	10. 10.backless sweater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!  
> I hope you're all having a good week, even if Maknae on Top killed us all dead <3

“I ordered you something.”

Seungmin stops folding his clothes - yes,  _ his _ clothes. Some weeks ago Minho dragged him out to the city to pick out some clothes. Seungmin hadn’t minded wearing Minho’s hand-me-downs, but Minho had been sick of seeing Seungmin recycling the same two outfits on repeat and said that the cafe they frequent on their errand-runs will grow suspicious. Suspicious of  _ what _ \- Seungmin wasn’t sure.

Seungmin was wearing a simple white t-shirt and a loose woolen cardigan. He was delighted when Minho had told him he didn’t need to button it, cardigans being frequently worn without being buttoned. He still hadn’t  _ fully _ mastered those pesky things yet.

Seungmin takes the package from Minho with a wary glance.

“What is it?”   
“Open it and find out.” 

Minho leans against the doorframe of the bedroom as Seungmin carefully opens the package. It takes him a while to find the tearable strip, but eventually, he pulls out a soft fabric from the bag. He shakes it open and looks between it and Minho with a growing smile. “A sweater?” 

“Look at the back.” Minho comes to him, carefully flipping the garment, “It’s backless. You can wear it and let your wings out. I tried to find one without this ribbon at the nape, but I guess it would lose its shape without some type of fastening.” 

Seungmin feels his essence dance in his pupils when he smiles, but he can’t help it. Seungmin loves wearing human clothes, and now - now he can wear them without the twinge of growing discomfort that hiding his wings holds.

“Your eyes are glowing,” Minho says. He dumps the garment on top of the neatly folded clothes, causing the pile to topple over. Seungmin’s face falls and he grumbles to himself as he goes about fixing his clothes. The last thing he wants is creased clothes. If Minho catches the gentle glow of his cheeks and ears, then he says nothing as he laughs and retreats out of the room to complete his own chores. 

==

“Where were you last night?” Minho asks immediately as Seungmin phases through the window. Seungmin starts and stumbles clumsily into his human form. Seungmin shoots a hand to stabilize the lamp he almost knocks over. Minho’s face doesn’t lighten from its frown at Seungmin’s stumble. “I woke up in the middle of the night and you were gone.” Minho tries to fake a casual tone, but Seungmin watches him rotate his ring over and over again in anticipation of his response. Seungmin closes a little of the space and stands in the archway between the living space and the bedroom. 

Seungmin stands up, wincing at the pain in his leg. “I was visiting Hyunjin and Jeongin in the garden for a while. I thought you would have a deep sleep tonight, sorry. I should have left a note.” 

Minho rolls his eyes. “A note-” He grumbles. “Do you want to go get some coffee?” He asks suddenly. 

Seungmin blinks, notably at the harsh bags under his eyes, only exacerbated by the poor lighting of the overhead light and the barely-awake sun. “Have you been awake all this time?” 

“Only since 4 am. I couldn’t get back to sleep.” 

“Oh,” Seungmin stretches his aching muscles, trying to ignore the guilt bubbling in his gut. “Did you have a nightmare? You look a little frazzled. If you want, I can look at it for you? If you close your eyes I can-” 

“No,” Minho slaps Seungmin’s hand away from his head, eyes bugged. “That is absolutely not necessary, keep your hands to yourself. I’m craving an all-butter croissant, do you want to come with me or not?” 

Seungmin’s face scrunches in thought, “Do you have errands?” Normally they only stop at the cafe after completing some errands or shopping, since the cafe is not far from the apartment. It’s small and quiet enough of a place for Seungmin to feel fully relaxed. Although he no longer needs to hold onto the tail of Minho’s coat when they walk past a group of humans, being around humans still isn’t a  _ comforting _ feeling. The cafe is small and secluded enough that Seungmin is able to relax fully in his seat. 

Minho responds by grabbing Gabriel and throwing it at Seungmin’s face. “Would you answer the question?!” 

Seungmin picks the pig up from the floor and returns him to his spot on the bed. He gives it a pat on the head, cooing an apology for Minho’s rough treatment. “I’ll accompany you to the cafe. Just let me change out of my robes.” When Minho makes no motion to move, Seungmin pushes him with gentle hands out of the bedroom, although he lets out a hiss of pain when he twists his arm at a painful angle to close the door. Minho raises his eyebrow but makes no motion to stop the door from closing on his face. 

Seungmin easily lets the robes fall at his feet. His gold belt catches the sun’s rays through Minho’s bedroom window. It reflects her shine onto the photos on Minho’s wall. Now, there is a new one: a blurry selfie taken by Minho from the impromptu party the previous week. Felix and Jisung are fighting for a position in the photo, Changbin is giving a steady peace sign behind Minho and Seungmin is curiously mirroring Changbin, hesitant peace sign in front of his own face. 

Getting the sweater on was no problem, the pants were a different story altogether. Seungmin could hardly lift his leg enough to get his foot into the holes - and bending over sent a dull ache all over his ribcage. 

Stupid, delicate humans. 

After a period of time that Seungmin insists isn’t as long as Minho is making it out to be, Minho bangs on the door for the third time. “Seriously - what is taking you so long? I have to get ready too, you know.” 

“I’m a little achy, I’m having trouble with the pants,” Seungmin resigns.

Even through the closed door, Seungmin can hear Minho’s eyeroll. “You can’t dress yourself? Seriously? I’m not helping you.” 

Three minutes later Minho opens the door and pushes Seungmin into a sitting position on the edge of the bed and helps feed the pants onto his legs. Then he pulls Seungmin to a standing position, with Seungmin’s hands on his shoulders and yanks the pants up by their belt loops. He flushes considerably, which is endearing. Humans and their innate embarrassment of each other’s bodies is so sweet. 

Minho considers Seungmin’s smirk then Seungmin sees the devil horns sprouting from his head. “I suppose you need help  _ buttoning _ them too?” Minho, with deft fingers and a shirt-eating smirk, buttons Seungmin’s pants and slowly zips his fly. He gives Seungmin’s thigh a firm slap and steps back into his own personal space.

“What are all those bruises about?” He asks. 

Seungmin wheezes on the bed and tries to recover from the harsh slap to said bruise. “Jeongin-” He manages. “We were playing flutterby. Jeongin has been getting better at flying, not so much at  _ stopping. _ ” 

Minho laughs brilliantly. “I’d like to see it.” 

“You would?"

“Of course,” Minho says genuinely. “You seem to like the game a lot, and I’m sure Jisung would like to join in some time - if that’s even possible,” Minho says this while he busies himself in the mirror with fixing his hair. Seungmin thinks his hair always looks perfectly fine. 

“He could. We have some non-flying positions for the fledglings. Jeongin just refuses to play those…” He trails off as he sees Minho approaching him with a  _ hat _ in his hands. “What is that-”

Seungmin doesn’t get to finish before Minho is trying to wrestle the devastating thing onto his skull. 

“It’s a beret - it matches the outfit!” 

“Get off-” Seungmin tries to get a hold of Minho’s arms, but he proves too fast for Seungmin’s reactions. Seungmin successfully manages to hold him off for a while, but eventually, the threat of such an awful, brain-squeezing, itchy nonsense of human apparel becomes too strong for Seungmin to ignore. When the beret makes an all-too purposeful contact with his scalp, Seungmin hardly notices his reflexes kick in until Minho is dangling mid-air, Seungmin’s fist effortlessly holding him in the air from the front of his shirt. 

Minho’s pale face stutters helplessly. Seungmin apologizes profusely and drops the human to the floor. He tries to iron the wrinkles out of Minho’s clothes. Minho only continues to stare at him with his mouth wide open. 

“How did you-” He manages.

“We’re stronger than humans, you know that,” Seungmin says ferverently as he fixes the collar of the top, fingers brushing against Minho’s adam’s apple. He feels Minho gulp.

“No - I actually didn’t.” 

Seungmin excuses himself to wash his face. Minho’s eyes follow him with a strange amount of hunger. Seungmin makes a pointed effort to  _ not _ read into his soul or his eyes, and hurriedly clothes the door behind him. 

  
  


The cafe always plays such pleasant music. Seungmin says as much, and Minho seems to find some level of amusement. It’s a simple classic piano arrangement apparently. It’s nothing like the music that Seungmin had desperately waded through on Jisung’s phone. It’s calmer, smoother, a little more fitting for the ambiance. 

Seungmin sits patiently for Minho to return with his order. Minho left his phone for Seungmin to entertain himself with, but Seungmin sees no need to keep himself distracted, perfectly content to sit there and appreciate the tiny little cafe. He  _ does _ check the notification when his phone vibrates on the table. Seungmin cheers at seeing Felix’s name on the screen. 

Minho comes back with his hands dexterously holding two drinks at once, his croissant in the other. He gets himself a coffee of some description usually, either a latte or a mocha, or sometimes something iced - whatever he feels like. This… strange pink thing was new, though. 

All the more strange when it’s placed in front of him.

“What’s this?” Seungmin points, as if it wasn’t obvious what he was referring to. 

“It’s a strawberry frappe. It’s a little thicker than strawberry milk, so you’ll have to suck a little harder on the straw and be prepared to swallow a thicker liquid.” Seungmin doesn’t really understand why Minho has a smirk on his face that he’s failing to cover, but it’s probably at his expense. 

Seungmin tastes it. “Don’t try and swallow it right away, let yourself get used to the feeling and taste of it,” Minho advises as he throws back half of his coffee in one go. 

The taste is good, but it’s a little colder than Seungmin expects. The temperature more than anything makes his muscles spasm. He only chokes a couple of times before he gets the hang of it. He can’t help the prideful look he sends Minho, and Minho apparently can’t help but kick his feet playfully under the table.

“Maybe we can wean you onto solid foods.”

Seungmin firmly and quickly shoots him down. “I’m not participating in all that chewing business.” 

“We can start with pudding then. Or ice-cream.” 

Minho begins listing off food for Seungmin to try with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Eventually, he says something about making a list, and begins typing away at his phone. Seungmin sits, not disinterested, happily working his way through his drink. 

He swirls the straw in the drink, then pulls it out to examine the white stuff. “What is this?” He asks, taking it between his fingers and tacking it. 

“Hm?” Minho looks up, “Cream.”

“Oh - this is the stuff you said Felix eats straight from the can?” Seungmin sucks the pad of his thumb into his mouth. Sweet! Too sweet! “I hope Felix brushes his teeth well.” 

“What is it with you and brushing teeth…” Minho mutters. Seungmin goes back to examining his drink, only to hear a shutter sound. 

“Why are you taking pictures of me?” He asks. He takes another drink of his frappe and looks expectedly to Minho for an answer as he does so. 

“To prove to Changbin and Felix that I haven’t choked you to death in your sleep yet.”

“Why would you do that? Plus, you know I don’t sleep, Minho.” 

“For changing the layout of my kitchen cabinets? Re-rolling all of my socks? Using all my toothpaste?” 

Seungmin looks away, straw in mouth, and pretends he hears nothing. 

**[[HAPPY BIRTHDAY HYUNG @11:13]]**

**Minho: [IMG:45255.PNG]** **  
** **Minho: and he still maintains he doesn’t cross his eyes.**

**Binne: cute~~~**

**Lixie: Ahhh! Seungmin.. I miss him </3**

**Minho: not me?**

**Lixie: not nearly as much no**

**Minho: harsh**

**Binnie: But fair**

**Lixie: Jisung says he misses you**

**Minho:**

******Lixie: How am I meant to convey the silent treatment as a third-party messenger?** **  
** **Lixie: OMG** **  
** **Lixie: wait**

**[[Lixie has added Minho, Binnie, cute guy from bar, to the group “Gays ft token heterosexual”]]**

**Binnie: is that all i am to you**

**Lixie: no hyung!** **  
** **Lixie: you also have a really useful credit card  
**

******Minho: @cute guy from bar ?**

******Binnie: is that Jisung**

******Lixie: omg T T I didn’t realize it would add him using his contact name**

**[[Lixie has changed cute guy from bar’s nickname to HAN]]**

**HAN: FELIX DID YOU NOT HEAR ME SCREAMING IN THE SHOWER COME AND HELP M**

**********Lixie: i thought you were singing …**

**HAN: HELP?**

**HAN: [IMG:99920424.PNG]**

**Binnie: what**

******Minho: Is that one of the angels??**

******Lixie: HYUNJIN?**

Minho shows Seungmin the blurry photo of Hyunjin, whose eyes are squinted as Jisung had clearly forgotten his flash was on. Seungmin takes the phone and studies it carefully, eyebrows furrowing in concentration before his face brightens and he laughs. 

“Is Jisung in the shower?” Seungmin asks, handing the phone back to Minho. Their fingers brush. Minho hums in affirmation. “I wonder if he’s picked up on human shame yet.” Seungmin ponders. 

Minho and Seungmin discuss it for a while. Obviously, Minho knows all about Seungmin’s lack of shame - the angel is going to give him heart failure someday. Minho is constantly reminding Seungmin to close the bathroom door when he changes, to be mindful when flying around the apartment with his robes on, or even to keep his blanket covering his modesty when he’s letting his wings out. 

Minho daren’t admit it. His eyes always fell to the falling scrap of fabric. The dip of the collarbones, the gentle valley of his sternum - it was a lighthouse to his eyes in a dark ocean. There is nothing he could possibly do  _ but _ look. Even the robes are distracting enough. Some days Seungmin fastens the silk over both shoulders, tight under his arms. Some days he lets the fabric flow more, exposing his ribcage. Sometimes, not very often, Seungmin will fasten it over one shoulder only. Apparently, that method of robe fashion is more difficult to do, so he doesn’t do it often. Good. Minho has lost too many hours of his life inexplicably staring at the bare shoulder, transfixed at the scrap of skin like some sort of Victorian maiden. 

“You should learn some human shame.” 

Minho’s phone buzzes again, just as Seungmin’s eyebrow arched at Minho’s lingering gaze and delayed response. 

**Lixie: [VID0024.mp4]**

**Binnie: why is jisung and hyunin running around your apartment**

**Minho: why is hyunjin wearing your clothes?**

**Lixie: they’re playing some angel game i think  
** **Lixie: and hyunjin wanted to try on human clothes** **  
** **Lixie: he was asking jisung for fashion advice**

******Binnie: LOL**

******Minho: LOL**

******HAN: you guys are MEAN**

Minho shows Seungmin the video, and to his surprise, the angel doesn’t laugh. Instead, he takes a hard drink of his frappe and almost chokes. “Why is he there, anyway?” 

“He was looking to peruse the world of human fashion, apparently.” 

Seungmin’s eyebrows crease and - yep - here comes the dinosaur face. “He shouldn’t be so complacent with visiting humans and breaking the angel code.” 

Minho could only blink at him incredulously. “Says  _ you,”  _ he says, after a flabbergasted minute. 

Seungmin’s voice tunes into nasal-range. “But you’re my human and your friends are important to me by association.” Seungmin crosses his arms and fixates his gaze on something on the wall. “Hyunjin has his own human to look after instead of playing around with Jisung.” 

“If he’s with Jisung and Felix, his human is probably sleeping - it’s not like he would abandon her, right?”

Seungmin pulls a face, huffs, and lets out a tight, “I guess…” 

“Seungmin,” Minho keens, eyes playful. Seungmin catches his eye, and his posture visibly relaxes a little, “Are you…  _ jealous?” _ The words come out of his mouth positively sinfully.

Seungmin mirrors his position, resting his palm on his hand. Minho is sure the angel is doing it unconsciously, learning how to move and act a little more human - but once, Minho caught Seungmin in deep concentration, head in palm, and as per Minho’s habit - biting gently on his pinky finger. 

Minho can’t explain  _ why _ it made him want to grab Seungmin and - shake him or  _ something. _ Anything. It caused an explosion of energy inside of Minho’s gut that needed some release. 

“I’m not sure. I haven’t experienced jealousy before.” 

“Are you inexplicably mad at Hyunjin for visiting Jisung and Felix?” Seungmin makes to defend himself, but Minho stills him with his hand. “You trust that Hyunjin wouldn’t put his human in danger - you spend enough time with him in the gardens to know that.”

Seungmin scrunches his nose. Minho isn’t sure who he picked that from - but he doesn’t dare mention it in case he stops. It is cute. 

“I think you may be right-”

“Wait - let me record you saying that-” Minho brings the phone to Seungmin’s face, who deadpans him and slaps the phone away. 

“I suppose I am jealous. Will I turn green?” He asks genuinely enough that Minho has to steel himself from laughing.

“We don’t  _ actually _ turn green, it’s an expression.”

Minho’s phone buzzes and he doesn’t miss how Seungmin’s eyes darted to read the notification. Not out of nosiness - Minho, despite his teasings - knows Seungmin is respectful of his privacy. 

“You liked hanging out with my friends last week.”    
Seungmin nods, although his brain continues working, and a small, somber smile grows on his face. He sits for a moment, then shakes himself off. “Did you like my friends?” 

“Including Bang Chan?” Minho teases, and cuts of Seungmin’s argument before it happens. “I did.” 

“Felix recommended me a new show last week. I forgot the name - could you ask him for it again? I trust his judgment in television.” 

Minho slides his phone across the table, “You can call him whenever you want, you know?” 

Seungmin stares at the phone like it might grow fangs. He cautiously reaches out and goes into Minho’s contacts. “I don’t want to overstep my boundaries.” 

Minho appreciates Seungmin’s respect for his boundaries more than he expected he would. He always gives him space when he’s mad, and usually lets topics slide if Minho hints enough that he wants to change the topic. Even more, Seungmin fights back, pushing his own boundaries and making sure Minho knows exactly what is and isn’t expected of him. 

“I’ll tell you if you do.” 

And like that, Seungmin was vibrating in his seat, waiting for Felix to pick up. 

They talk for a while, not overly long. Minho was mindful of the workout he still had to do today, and Seungmin didn’t like holding him back. Seungmin’s face was positively  _ splitting _ with his phone call with Felix, in which Felix recommended him that show again, and Seungmin demanded Minho to remember the title in case his memory failed him again. 

Seungmin spoke briefly with Hyunjin, who was zooming around in the background, now back in his robes. It was only when Hyunjin flitted closer the phone to wave at Seungmin did he get caught out.

“Where did you get the copper belt for your robes?”

_ “Uh-” _

“Did you go into my room again?! You know I don’t like you touching my stuff-”   
_ “Sorry! The connection is really bad!”  _ Hyunjin flips the phone face down so all Minho and Seungin can see is black.  _ “Phew, I thought he was gonna kick my asp. Seungmin is scary when he’s mad.”  _

“I can still hear you!” 

Hyunjin flies from the apartment, and Seungmin has a very intense discussion with him over angel radio. Angel radio… Minho snorts to himself. That’s what Jisung used to call it, it’s a lot catchier than all the other ‘official’ names. 

  
  


Not long after, with Seungmin’s metaphorical feathered considerably more ruffled, Minho invites Seungmin to exercise with him. It will soothe his head as well as stretching his tight, aching muscles. Which in hindsight, was a terrible invitation. Seungmin slipped on that backless sweater and stretched his wings along with the stretching. 

At a point, Minho took to helping Seungmin. The angel’s flexibility was lacking. He pushed gently on Seungmin’s shoulders as he tried to reach his toes, held his feet flat as he worked on some ab crunches - and  _ Jesus Christ - _ held his thighs apart to stretch his hip flexors. 

Minho felt more out of breath after this period of exercise than he had ever done before. Realistically, Minho  _ knows _ he shouldn’t be eyeing the bead of sweat making its way from Seungmins neck down to his feathers. Minho knows that he shouldn’t have an urge to run his hand through the sweaty hair on his head. 

“What are you looking at?” Seungmin says. His chest is heaving, his face is flushed and covered in a sheen that has the slightest touch of iridescence to it when the sun hits it. 

“You’re sweaty,” Minho says quickly. 

Seungmin argues with him for a needlessly long time because ‘angels don’t sweat’, well, news-flash sherlock, your skin is leaking and you  _ stink. _ Minho has to push Seungmin into the shower, even battling his wings when Seungmin spreads his wings to stop himself from being pushed over the threshold into the bathroom. 

“I’m from the heavens - the  _ opposite _ of the oceans! I would be like a squid out of water.” 

Minho manages to force Seungmin into the room, throws him a handful of clothes, and tells him not to let his feathers clog the drain. 

Minho lies on his workout mat, sweat cooling uncomfortably on his skin. The sun is beginning to set into a warm, golden evening. Minho can’t help but notice the way the essence absorbs the light and winks back at him. There are little bits of it everywhere, even with as diligent as Seungmin is with cleaning up after himself. There are little twinkles of it embedded in the carpet, even after hours of vacuuming. When it’s disturbed, the flecks of gold-silver puff into the air, glittering as they fall again. Only his feathers and sneezes seem to produce essence, whereas he remembers Jisung just… secreted it. All the time. Minho’s hands are clean of the dust, even from when he was helping Seungmin stretch. 

Minho pulls his phone from the charger and opens his photo album from their ‘party’ the week before. He swipes through a lot of blurry drunk selfies and photos of Changbin attempting various handstands. His swiping stops on a picture he has only vague, woozy memories taking: Seungmin, head thrown back in laughter. It is so simple, a blurry little masterpiece. Seungmin carries so much of his smile in eyes, creasing up until they’re almost closed, barely concealing the amber glow of his essence behind them. 

He has warmed up considerably to his angel. In fact, Minho kind of doesn’t mind the thought of Seungmin looking over him for a long, long time. He will be safe with him, he’s sure. And a part of Minho wants to protect him, too. 

“I peed,” Seungmin says casually out of nowhere. He grabs a strawberry milk from the fridge and stands over Minho, watching him. A habit Minho’s come to get used to. 

“You - what?” 

“I urinated. In the toilet,” He clarifies. He hands the straw to Minho to piece the film. He always ends up using too much gusto and crushing the box. 

Minho takes a steeled breath, trying not to laugh. “Did it - did it go okay?” Seungmin takes the milk off him and thanks him. He takes a sip, face screwed up in concentration, eyes only going a  _ little _ cross-eyed this time. He’s getting better. 

“It was peculiar. I’ve never had to do that before. It was a little uncomfortable at first when the-” 

“I’ve decided that I don’t want to know anymore.” 

Seungmin wordlessly and without argument lowers himself onto the sofa. Every so often, he blinks the water out of his eyes from the drippings of his hair. Minho looks up at him. “Did you use my banana shampoo?” 

“Yes.” 

“You should use the one in the pink bottle. The banana one is expensive.”

“The guest shampoo?” Minho nods. “I’m not a guest.” 

And like that, the fight dies in Minho. He’s  _ not _ a guest. Minho blinks heavily as he wraps his head around when  _ exactly _ Seungmin became less of a weird guest who overstays his welcome and more a roommate. A guardian angel, first and foremost, but Minho hasn’t needed any saving or any real guidance. For the most part, Seungmin seems content to let Minho’s life to lead on as normal. Maybe it’s because of the halo bond, he considers with a twang of guilt.

Seungmin’s halo rarely makes an appearance, even though hiding it all day gives him headaches. A soulless grey thing. Maybe if Minho swallowed his reservations and let those hands cup his cheek, let his soul find the halo and sit upon the angel’s head, maybe Seungmin would be able to have a more hands-on experience. 

Seungmin taps his shoulder.    
“Can I borrow your phone? I would like to ask Felix a question.” Minho hands Seungmin his phone easily. Seungmin gives him a small, kind smile in thanks - and freezes. The still is short, and Seungmin seems to shiver in a way that Minho knows is him fluffing his non-corporeal feathers and taps away at Minho’s phone. 

“Is it about your new show?” Minho finally gets himself off of the ground and wipes down the mat. His hair tickles his nose obnoxiously. 

“It is. I’m not sure which channel sells it.”

Minho's hair eventually coerces him into a sneeze. The silence lingers. 

“Aren’t you going to bless me?” 

Seungmin, without looking up from the phone, “My guardianship over you is a blessing itself.” 

Minho laughs. Sometimes Seungmin is unintentionally hilarious, not so much in what he says, but rather the dry tone he delivers it. The little smirk on his face only tells Minho that this time is completely intentional. 

Minho finishes clearing up and showers. When he comes back out, Seungmin is still on the sofa, only now curled up in a more comfortable position, contently chatting away to Felix. Minho rolls his eyes and begins rifling through the cupboards for a snack. 

“The triangle salted snacks are in the cupboard beside the first aid box.” Sometimes he's convinced Seungmin can read his mind. 

“Since when did I have a first aid box?”   
“Since you almost broke Jisung’s nose. I felt it a necessary purchase.” Ha - 'purchase' my ass. 

Minho drops beside Seungmin on the sofa with his bag of chips. He wouldn’t eat them  _ all _ , but a few won’t hurt. He flips the bag over to check the nutritional information but is cut off by Seungmin’s hand turning the bag back around.

“All you had for lunch was your croissant. Just eat them.” 

“Yes,  _ Mom, _ ” Minho glares. He leans over to see what Seungmin and Felix are talking about. Something about baking, Minho is sure Seungmin knows more baking jargon than anyone else in the Heavens at this point. “I think you like my friends more than you like me,” He teases. 

Seungmin immediately drops the phone onto the sofa and looks at him seriously. Minho almost chokes on his chip. “That’s not possible. I like you the most out of anyone.”

Minho swallows, throat suddenly very dry. Stupid salted chips. “I- you can’t say stuff like that. It sounds serious.” 

“It is serious,” Seungmin says quietly. 

Suddenly, Minho notices how Seungmin’s fringe dried with a curl at the corner. Minho notices how his left cheek is slightly chubbier than the other. Minho notices how his skin has a warm, almost honey-like glow which shimmers under the orange light streaming through the window. It’s almost… ethereal how the sunlight seems to find all the perfect spots to highlight on the angel. 

The essence behind his eyes catches the rays, rumbling a powerful amber beneath the surface. The fullest parts of his lips shining amidst the shadows of his cupid's bow. 

Like a vision, Minho sees Seungmin’s halo, glowing a royal purple cheerfully upon his head. The vision is so  _ clear _ , so perspicuous that it steals the breath from Minho’s lungs, and he’s left with an awful feeling in his gut. Like he’s missing something. Like the dread you feel as you settle into bed and realise you had homework, or when you check the date and realise you had an appointment that day. Only, unlike these feelings, there’s something thrumming there, something that feels dangerously like longing. 

It scares him.

_ O’Angel _

It terrifies him.

_ O’Angel, made of sun _

Something deep inside him is pushing this feeling away: it’s bad. It’s sour. Stay away.

_ O’ Holiest of humans _

But something even deeper, even more prodigious, is telling him the opposite, its voice broken, trembling, but all the louder for how hard it fights to be heard: listen to me! Listen to me! Listen to the goodness!

“Minho, are you alright?” Seungmin is here. His angel is here. Somehow, both of these had always existed separately in his mind. 

The human-like Seungmin who grows nasal when nagging Minho about the water spots on his drinking glasses. Who tucks Gabriel the pig into his bed every morning. Who  _ always _ wins at card games. Who listens to gamely piano music while he meditates in the mornings.

The archaic angel who interferes in his affairs. Who saved his friends' lives. Who risked it all to serve his duty to the heavens. Who made it  _ very _ clear that he will not let Minho play his games with him nor will he serve a human. Who rattles the apartment windows and loosens the soil of his potted plants with the power of his otherworldly voice. 

Now, under the unifying sunset, where the powerful sun lies itself to sleep and the gentle moon rises to guide wanderlusting souls home, these two images merge into one person. 

Kim Seungmin - the Angel. 

Angel Seungmin, who steals first aid kits to keep stock in the kitchen. Angel Seungmin who yanks Minho to walk on the inside of the pavement. Angel Seungmin who encourages Minho to eat an extra serving of rice every lunchtime. Angel Seungmin who drapes a blanket over him when he falls asleep on the sofa. Angel Seungmin who reminds him to buy more toilet paper at the store. Angel Seungmin who rearranged the cupboards when Minho complained about having to bend over to grab his breakfast oats from the bottom cupboard. 

Suddenly the Angel before him is seen for the first time. His angel, Kim Seungmin. 

“Angel,” Minho smiles, the nickname makes Seungmin cock his head. It isn’t one he uses often. “You’re right. It  _ is _ serious.” 

**[[Minho --- > Binnie @ 23:05]]**

**Minho: Price me apartments in Seoul.**

**Binnie: am i nothing but an endless supply of money to you?**

******Minho: No  
** **Minho: You’re also a pain in the ass**

**Binnie: You’re moving back home?**

**Minho: Yeah - I think so**

**Binnie: you miss ussss~~~~~**

**Minho: You wanna get hit?**

**Binnie: hehe** **  
** **Binnie: if you want to move home I’ll find you a place. I’ll worry about the cost. It’ll be a little smaller than your apartment now though, if I’m going to try and keep the price range the same.**

**Minho: I want to pay for it. I have enough in savings for a 6-months advance.** **  
** **Minho: probably lol**

**Binnie: ?** **  
** **Binnie: all of a sudden?** **  
** **Binnie: don’t get me wrong, my bank balance is crying in relief**

**Minho: oh please, you’ll spend the difference on designer umbrellas**

**Binnie: that was ONE time.**

**Minho: I’m going to try and get a job.**

**Binnie: oh?**

**Minho: Yeah**

**Binnie: that’s great!** **  
** **Binnie: It’s just, so out of nowhere, you know?**

**Minho: believe me, I know.**

**Binnie: I’m proud of you** **  
** **Binnie: And even if you do it and decide ‘oh shit maybe I’m not ready’ - I’ll support you. You’re in good hands to try, you can stumble and take as many step backs as you need to get yourself back on your feet**

**Minho: Oh gross** **  
** **Minho: I want to be home by next week**

******Binnie: you are a headache.**

******Minho: (:**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic might slow down a little! I am in the process of writing a supernatural Seungsung fic, which I will try to release in 2-4 parts. But either way, I will be writing it all at once before publishing any chapters. :) I will still be updating this, though - so don't worry!! 
> 
> I hope you didn't mind the Minho POV in this? If you'd rather keep it Seungmin-centric, let me know! I just wanted to play with it a littel
> 
> Thank you for reading... this might feel like a filler chapter.... but all I can say is. 
> 
> Look forward to next chapter :) 
> 
> (spare comment in exhange for a socially distanced kiss on the mouth?)


	11. 11. The Balcony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No chapter warnings needed here guys!
> 
> Sorry for the delay with this chapter - I'm currently working on something else right now and I'm bad at multitasking, on the plus side, this accidentally came out 3k longer than expected.

The new apartment, at the end of the day, was a nice little thing. It was much more spacious than Changbin let on, and seemed more upmarket than the price Minho was paying for it. A simple two-bed, open-plan layout. The extra bedroom was a plus - not to mention both rooms came with an ensuite. It even had a  _ balcony _ . When Changbin had told him that - albeit Minho had agreed to the first apartment listing that Changbin had sent, knowing that if it met his criteria then it would meet his own - he was on the KTX, Seungmin by his side and all his belongings in a series of suitcases in the overhead storage. 

It was a little embarrassing how his entire life could be packed away into three suitcases, but that was the point. When Minho moved from Seoul to Busan, following Jisung’s falling, he made a point to be as empty and uninteresting as possible, to convince the angels that Jisung had taken his soul with him. Minho watched Seungmin wrap Gabriel in a pillowcase, swaddling him like a baby and carefully strapping him into the suitcase with gentle coos. In his own hand, he was carefully pressing all his photos between the pages of some books. Yeah - that plan hadn’t really worked out. 

Seungmin had tried to hide his excitement when Minho announced that he was moving back to Seoul, only a short distance from his friends. Although, with the excitement (thinly veiled with twitching wings), came a crease between his angel’s eyebrows as the short countdown drew closer. 

“Is it a safe neighbourhood?” Seungmin asked while helping Minho with the dishes. 

“Do the nearby eateries have good standards of food hygiene?” He asked while staring Minho down as he obliterated a bowl of katsu curry.

“Have you checked the weather forecast? Do you have enough winter clothes for the cold seasons?” Seungmin asked while uselessly lounging in the air as Minho struggled to vacuum-seal his duvet.

Minho did all he could to reassure the angel, but most of it seemed to be the inner workings of Seungmin’s mind - out of his hands. 

Seungmin helped him wheel the suitcases from the apartment, where Minho closed the door to the beige apartment for the last time, handed his key over to the front desk, and heard the electronic buzzing of the lock for the complex as the entrance doors shut behind them. The streets were quiet, the journey a quiet one, punctuated only by the sound of the suitcases rolling behind them on the pavement. 

Seungmin vanishes while Minho buys his ticket, and reappears on the platform to help Minho onto the train and store his suitcases away. “Will you be staying?” Minho asked.

“I can follow you just as easily by flying.” 

Whatever Seungmin saw on his face or in his eyes, it seemed to change his mind. With a delicate smile and a over-sold sigh, Seungmin fell into the seat opposite Minho and played with his thumbs while curiously watching the people on the platform.    


“An angel just stopped that little boy from falling onto the tracks,” Seungmin said.

Minho peered out, only to see nothing amiss. “I don’t see anything.”

“Of course you don’t - you’re human.” Minho pulled a face, then proceeded to get his ass handed to him in card games for the remainder of the train journey. 

The first couple of days are filled with nothing but unpacking. Clothes, kitchenware, the small things. The moving van followed them three hours after their arrival, bringing with them the television, the microwave, and the newly bought curtains. The moving men weren’t too keen on delivering the entire way across Korea for the sake of a sad list of furniture - but here we are. 

Thankfully, this apartment was pre-furnished, although Seungmin maintains that all couches are lumpy and awful, he didn’t seem to mind too much when he lay down and tossed Gabriel into the air in lieu of helping Minho unwrap and wash all of his drinking glasses from their newspaper houses. 

Eventually, after a long couple of days, the suitcases were empty and stored in the closet at the end of the hallway, everything was in its newly found rightful place and Minho had finally figured out how to open the door to the balcony. An  _ actual  _ balcony, with little fold-out chairs and everything. 

Seungmin, as much as he wanted to, couldn’t let his wings out and stretch them, which was pity. Although the fresh air, especially after being so busy helping Minho unpack for a day and a half, was welcome. Minho ordered a salad bowl from some health-food place nearby, including a smoothie for himself and for Seungmin. Seungmin’s was banana-berry blast, which he drank eagerly. Seungmin had no problem drinking even thick liquids now, maybe he really could wean onto solid foods. Seungmin scrunches his face up in disgust when Minho brings it up.

“Have you had a chance to survey all the criminals around my place yet?” Minho says cheerily. Seungmin shoots him a serious frown.

“Not funny. And yes. Everyone in this apartment block seems to be perfectly ordinary. The surrounding area seems safe enough, although there was a hooded figure who was walking his dog at 3am last night, so be cautious.” 

“Of what?”

“The man.”

“What?” Minho stuffs lettuce into his mouth. “Is he gonna walk me, Seungmin? Is he gonna put me in a collar and walk me?” 

Seungmin takes an angry drink through his straw. “You’re entirely unpleasant.” 

Minho only hums in amusement. Although it shifts when the silence lingers. Seungmin shuffles awkwardly, eyebrows furrowed as he looks out over the balcony. Minho has an urge to reach over and smooth the crease forming there but he stops himself. It wouldn’t be a big deal if he did - he fixes Felix’s hair, or rubs stray eyeliner marks from Changbin’s face - but it’s different. 

It’s different with Seungmin. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” 

“I have no need for human currency.” Is the flat, faraway reply he gets. Minho clicks his fingers in front of Seungmin’s face. Seungmin’s eyes widen as he clicks back into the present. He pushes Minho’s hand away.

“What’s got your feathers ruffled?” 

Seungmin opens his mouth, then closes it. He takes a thoughtful drink of his smoothie as he finds the words. 

“Nothing you need to be concerned with.” It wasn’t said unkindly, but it makes Minho prickle. Minho doesn’t like being told what he should and shouldn’t think about.

“Well, I am. So you can either tell me about it or I will jump off this balcony.” 

Seungmin raises an eyebrow. “That seems like an unnecessary escalation-  **_sit down._ ** ” Seungmin’s angel voice rattles Minho’s skull and compels him to lower his leg off the balcony. “Don’t do that.”

“Tell me, or I’ll do it again.” 

Seungmin narrows his eyes. “It’s angel business.” 

“Ahhh,” Minho says. His tone relaxes the knots in Seungmin’s shoulders. “So I should ask Bang Chan, then?” Seungmin whips his head.

“You’re relentless.” Minho nods. “I have concerns about you, is all. It will do you no good to hear of them.”

“But it’ll do no harm. And it  _ is _ doing you harm on your pea-brain to keep it all to yourself, so out with it.”

Seungmin expertly ignores the insult. “I’m your guardian angel - worries for your safety and wellbeing are mine to bear, and to bear alone.”

“Is that right?” Minho wipes his hand on the paper towel, leaning back on the chair. “You do it all alone? You were born alone, raised alone, exist alone? Everything you do - you do so alone? What a sad little life you live.” 

“I’m not sure what you’re implying.” 

“If you have worries, you should share them. You think I don’t care for you?” 

Seungmin stills. Minho watches him like a hawk. His shoulders flex from where he is undoubtedly rolling the tension from his wings. At a loss for words, Seungmin, ears a little pink, simply shrugs. “Well I do.” 

Seungmin, avoiding eye contact, takes great care with his words. “You’ve made a brash choice. I’m worried about the new environment, the financial strain, your future worklife, and the ripple this will have on your emotional health.” 

“I’m only a bus away from Changbin and Felix, you know.”

Seungmin’s frown didn’t ease. “I know.” 

The angel was staring off into the sky, the dull orange catching the effervescence of his portrait. The dull slope of his nose. The golden shimmer of his skin. The slight sparkle of angel essence on the tips of his eyelashes, catching the light and reflecting brilliantly. The sky is ablaze with the evening sun, sure - whatever. But Seungmin was  _ there,  _ taking the sun and reflecting it tenfold. 

The gap between them suddenly feels as much as an inch as it does a mile. If Minho were to reach out, the distance would be inexpressible, but only take a moment to cross - and it’s an important moment. One of anticipation, hunger, and something deep inside him: a calling of sorts.

Minho squints at the sun.  _ ‘It’s your fault,’ _ he thinks to it,  _ ‘Making Seungmin look all angelic like that - it’s making my brain think strange thoughts.’ _   
The thought: Seungmin beside him, the exact same picture, exact same circumstance - but a change so overwhelming that Minho almost loses breath at how much his heart tried to crawl out of his throat and bring the vision into reality. A gentle halo atop Seungmin’s head. 

“You’re here,” He says, forcing his brain into the present. “So I’ll be okay.” 

Seungmin looks at him with so much  _ affection _ , with a small smile that grows organically until his cheeks are fat and his teeth show that Minho freezes. 

The gap feels like a hair’s breadth now. One small breeze and they’ll collide. Minho’s mouth suddenly feels chalky, and he sucks his bottom lip into his mouth to wet it - with Seungmin’s attention very obviously being grabbed by the action. Seungmin, in the habit of copying human mannerisms, does the same. 

The sun catches the lightest freckling of angel dust now delicately dusted on his lower lip. Like a moth to a flame, Minho can’t take his eyes off it. Wondering, in the very back of his mind if the angel’s kiss would do the same on his own? 

When he looks up, he catches Seungmin’s eyes somewhere in the middle of looking up and down from his mouth. There is a glimmer of mutual acknowledgment, and then Seungmin shifts, bringing his attention elsewhere - anywhere but Minho. 

Maybe it’s the eventual realization that he’s attracted to his angel, maybe it’s the desire to get closer - to form the bond and selfishly take his longing and hope Seungmin doesn’t get hurt in the process - Minho lets his carnal desires take over. 

“Do you want the spare bedroom?” Seungmin doesn’t respond. “I know you don’t sleep, but I’m sure you’d like your own space instead of floating around the living room aimlessly during the night.” 

There is a long pause, wherein Seungmin seems to be thinking hard. “I’m not your roommate, Lee Minho.” The coldness of his voice makes the gold sheen of his skin seem obscene. “I am not human. I am your guardian angel - not your friend.” 

“Can’t you be both?” Minho asks, a little hurt by the angel’s sudden distance. 

“No,” He replies. His eyes, warm and burning with flecks of essence, the warmth isn’t one of comfort, but of ache - of slow-burning. “Not with you, Minho. I don’t- I don’t think I can.” Minho knows Seungmin’s eyes dart back to his mouth - then away into the distance again. 

Terrified that he’s going to ruin it again, Minho reaches out and holds tight onto Seungmin’s sleeve. This catches his attention. “Don’t do that. I see you as my friend _ and _ my guardian angel,” He speaks up as Seungmin tries to interrupt. “You can be millions of things to one person - and all those million things make up you. If you weren’t my friend - then you wouldn’t be Kim Seungmin - you would be another faceless angel.” 

“I-I don’t think I understand,” He says. Minho can see it as only a partial truth. 

“What am I to you?” Minho prompts. “In one word.” 

Seungmin looks at him and searches for an answer. He searches for a long time. “I can’t define it so trivially. You’re Lee Minho.” Minho nods expectantly, and Seungmin’s eyes widen. The ball drops. 

“Well. Maybe it would be nice to have my own closet for my human clothes…” Seungmin trails off. “And my own window to open without you complaining in my ear…” Minho swipes him. 

There, with Minho’s salad half-forgotten, and Seungmin lifting the bowl into Minho’s line of vision every now and again to remind him to eat, they plan Seungmin’s little space. It isn’t to be anything grand, Seungmin has no Earthly possessions of course, but a bookshelf, for the old books and scrolls he has in the Heavens, a dresser for his clothes, his silk robes and their belts. Seungmin even mentions Gabriel in passing, to which sparked a debate over  _ who _ gets to keep the pig.

They agree bitterly to joint custody. 

===

Seungmin had been taken aback by Minho’s eagerness for Seungmin to have his own space. They had spent the better part of a day scrolling through a cheap furniture website, even though Seungmin was adamant that he really didn’t need furniture, just a nice space to meditate in, if anything. Minho had grown frustrated at his humility, so he allowed Minho to add some bookshelves and a desk with chair into the basket to be delivered in the week. 

Seungmin and Minho almost fought multiple times constructing the furniture, with Minho accidentally having thrown the instructions away, so the two were forced to work together to figure out which piece of cheap cardboard-filled wood joined with which joint. In Seungmin’s opinion, this was a human activity, not an angel’s one - but Minho refused to let Seungmin float away.

At the end of the day, Seungmin’s fragile human form was in pain, and Minho was forced to stand with him under the fluorescents of the ensuite with a pair of tweezers to extract a stubborn splinter. Minho’s hands were gentle and when the deed is done, Seungmin still thinks often about their soft touch. 

Seungmin doesn’t think his room is anything special, it has more than what he needs. A closet, a desk, a bed, and a bookshelf. Seungmin likes his closet, even if it is sparse by human standards. He is yet to see his backless sweater hung up there because he rarely takes it off. It is so freeing, for his wings to breathe like this. Seungmin stretches his wings, letting them touch either side of the wall, feeling how his wingspan takes up the space as his muscles flex. 

The sun is cheerful on his face, smiling down at him through the open window. Seungmin grins at her and waves back, feeling a thread of warmth pulse in the rays he’s currently reveling in response. 

Seungmin was never one for possessions, though - not like Jeongin with his growing collection of belts and fancy gold arm cuffs. Seungmin was more than happy with his plain white silk robes and a small number of robe fastenings. In fact, he only had three - and none much different from the other. He knew to a degree that Jeongin had at least two dozen scattered around his accommodation. Seungmin was able to move all of his heavenly items down to the bedroom in one quick swoop. 

Minho says his room is bland - but Seungmin thinks it’s practical. He isn’t one for nostalgic photographs or anything of the sort. 

Seungmin continues with his meditation, trying to clear his thoughts and his senses as best he can, when a sudden presence disturbs him. The energy shifts instantly and Seungmin springs to his feet to console the fledgling. 

“Jeongin, what’s wrong?” Seungmin was quick to smooth some fretted feathers and tried to send some soothing energy the youngling’s way - but it wasn’t enough to quell the worries. Jisung gave him a weak smile, punctuated with a deep breath. Although he wasn’t teary-eyed or fretting in any physical way, Seungmin could feel the tension in his stomach, the salty smell of a rocky beach.

Jeongin shifts his weight too much to one side and falls into Seungmin, managing to phase enough into corporeality to barrel painfully into his shoulder, sending them both to the floor.

“Sorry! Sorry - I  _ didn’t mean  _ to frighte _ n you. _ I tried to  _ suppress my emo _ tions but I’m not all that good at it yet.  _ I think I’m not good at anything, actually, now that I  _ think about it-”

Seungmin puts a hand over the fledgling's mouth and tries to settle his head, Jeongin using both his voice and the communication network was making Seungmin dizzy.

“Slowly,” Seungmin says. 

Jeongin takes a deep breath and steadies himself on Seungmin’s shoulder, before moving away into his own space. “I had my exam today.” 

“What?!” Seungmin winces as his angel voice threatened in his vocal cords. Minho drops something in the other room. “Why didn’t you tell us?” Seungmin lowers his voice. 

Jeongin’s anxiety is written clearly on his face. It makes him look much older. “I didn’t want to jinx it. You know how much I struggled with my practice exam.” 

Seungmin does. It was some weeks ago, and Hyunjin had tuned into the communication network to tell him that Jeongin bombed his practice exam so flutterby is on hold until Jeongin comes out of his self-pity. It took four long, long days. It’s unlike Jeongin to be upset or stressed, so for an episode to last so long was worrisome, but thankfully it all worked out.

“Did you at least pray to the archangels for luck?” 

Jeongin nods and shifts slightly so his wings are within the sun’s rays. “But I don’t know whether I did good enough. I took out four of the cones in the flying agility test and slammed straight into the wall for the braking…” Jeongin deliberates a little more on it, then tears his fingers through his hair and falls to the floor with a yell. “Minnie - I’m gonna be a fledgling  _ forever _ ,” He cries, hopeless.

Seungmin’s been there. They’ve all been there. The mountain of work, the pressure to be  _ perfect _ is a part of the road to graduating. Jeongin, however, was pushed through the ranks at a speed of which was  _ unheard _ of in the heavens. He’s only been training for ten years - in Seungmin’s timeline he had hardly learned the human languages and basic human culture. He had hardly a grasp on things like phasing, scenting, aura-reading - nothing like that.

Seungmin pats Jeongin’s thigh comfortingly. “You’re always too hard on yourself. I’m sure you did great. Chan wouldn’t put you through the exam if he didn’t think you were ready.”

“But I’m  _ not _ ready!” Jeongin cries. “I don’t have the knowledge of the human race like you do, not their culture or society - or even what common everyday dangers are-” Jeongin sits up, eyes blazing. “Did you know unwashed lettuce can contain dangerous bacteria which can be fatal?  _ Lettuce, _ Seungmin.” He falls back to the ground, no calmer for it. 

“Especially if the human is pregnant. It’s something you need to be aware of if your human has the ability to bear children - it could happen,” Seungmin explains in response to Jeongin’s look of confusion, when it morphs into agony, Seungmin pats Jeongin again awkwardly. “Maybe that wasn’t helpful.” 

Seungmin tries to comfort Jeongin a little more, and even absent-mindedly begins to straighten his feathers when a knock interrupts them.

“You don’t have to knock,” Seungmin says after calling Minho to come in.

Minho makes a show of peeking through the door with his hands covering his eyes, “I do when you meditate  _ naked. _ ” 

“I had shorts on that time, you're being dramatic again.” 

Minho peeks through his hands. His posture stiffens and his hand falls back to his side, the bit finished. “Uh… who is that?” Minho points to Jeongin. Seungmin realizes Jeongin probably isn’t fully phased, and he leans over to Jeongin.

_ ‘Is it okay to tell him you’re here, or would you rather stay quiet?’  _

Jeongin looks over to the human, who is staring directly at him. Jeongin shivers.  _ ‘It’s weird that he can do that. Yeah.’ _

Seungmin flattens his feathers. “It’s Jeongin,” He says. “I’m fixing his wings right now.” 

Minho relaxes into the door frame. “Hi, Jeongin. You can come out if you want.” And to Seungmin’s surprise - he does. He phases a little awkwardly, getting his leg stuck in the floor and his hair poofing upright with static charge. He waves politely at Minho while Seungmin tries to fix his hair. It’s so  _ easy _ to fix Jeongin’s hair without a halo in the way - but not for long. 

“This might be the last time you see Jeongin without a halo,” He says to Minho. Jeongin’s ears get a little dusting of pink. Seungmin tries to bite them only for Jeongin to push him away in disgust. 

Minho snorts at the antics, stuffing his hands into his coat. “I was going to ask if you were ready to go, but I can see you’re busy.” He says this in a biting tone, only to break into a smile when Seungmin makes to frantically apologise - or argue. Seungmin isn’t really sure what was going to come out of his mouth around Minho lately. “It’s fine. The health-food place delivers their smoothies if you want to get some. I’ll leave the number on the fridge if you want to order some stuff. My card is - you know where it is - of course.” Seungmin points out that it’s  _ Changbin’s _ card and gets ignored. “Jeongin is free to stay as long as he likes. Just don’t burn the place down.” 

Jeongin hides a smile. 

Seungmin’s feathers perk up at the thought - it’s been a while since he spent time with his friends properly. The games of flutterby were  _ fun _ , but they were really a rouse to get Jeongin some flying practise. Hyunjin and Jeongin usually hung out for a while afterwards, pruning their feathers and whatnot, but Seungmin always felt the anxiety of leaving Minho alone, even in the dead of night, too much to bear for that long. 

He hates leaving Minho on his own. 

“Where are you meeting Felix? Are you walking or taking the bus? It’s a Sunday morning so likely there will be a lot of people over the legal drinking limit - wait, are you taking the subway? Make sure you wear a mask, the air quality is-” 

“I’ll ask Felix to meet me outside the building, is that okay?” Minho doesn’t wait for a reply before he’s pulling his phone out to text Felix. “You’re such a worry-wart,” He says playfully, but his eyes linger on Seungmin for a little longer than they should, with a little more softness than there should be. Seungmin looks away.

“I should probably… go-” Jeongin rises on wobbly feet, steadied by Seungmin’s quick reflexes. Seungmin eases him back onto the ground, not confident that he won’t topple over completely. Minho regards it with coated concern.

“What’s wrong with you? If you puke on my floor-” 

“I had an exam.” The words are coughed out with difficulty. 

This doesn’t ease Minho’s grinding on the fledgling. “So if you’ll leave what will you do? Sit around in the clouds and ruminate? What good will that do?” 

“I could… read a book.” 

“I’ve never seen you read a book in your life.” Seungmin gets a painfully boney elbow to the ribs for the comment. 

It takes a while, but eventually Minho twists his arm, and Seungmin stays in the apartment with Jeongin while Minho meets with Felix. He offers to change the plans and meet at the little cafe across the road so that Seungmin can keep an eye on him. Minho waves the two goodbye as he leaves the apartment.

Seungmin swoops to the window and throws it open immediately, ribs painfully pressed into the sill as he teeters over the edge to wait for Minho to exit the building. Jeongin tugs him back. “You’re making me nervous when you hang out the window like that.” 

Seungmin makes a half-hearted reply - oh, there he is. Good. He didn’t fall down the stairs. And Felix is there too. Felix takes Minho into a hug and Minho gives him a pat on the back, edging away but still happy to see him - he’s not a huge lover of hugs. It’s embarrassing how long it took Seungmin to grow aware of the fact, but he bears them so well for his friends who seem to be fond of skinship. Seungmin can see the appeal, perhaps. Humans are warm and soft. To be held in the arms of a human might not be terribly exciting, given that they’re hardly a step up from the common ape: no wings to envelope you in; no flushes of calming auras; not even the warm buzzing of essence beneath the skin. But rather, Seungmin imagines it to be a lot simpler. Like a blanket or a good sweater - something more homely, more open -  _ ‘I have little else to love you with, so I will do so with my arms. I’ll press you into my body, completely open and vulnerable. I trust you not to hurt me and I will do the same. In eachother’s arms - we are safe.’ _

There’s something so tender and delicate about humans. Something about how short and fragile a human life is, and yet, despite that, they are brash and bold and brazen. Seungmin watches Minho like a hawk as he crosses the street without waiting for the pedestrian sign to say it is clear to do so. He sighs. They make it across fine, but the thoughts of the worst-case scenarios plague Seungmin every day. His feathers twitch. Maybe his human could do with being a little  _ less _ bold. 

“How is the lack of halo-bond going?” Jeongin says with a Cheshire grin. Clearly poking fun at Seungmin’s anxieties with Minho. 

“Fine.” He’s not really paying attention to Jeongin.  _ Actively _ choosing not to pay attention, as much as the fledgling is poking and prodding his person. He doesn’t even throw him off when he flies up and drops onto Seungmin’s back, like some type of elongated koala. 

“Mhm… what did he order?” 

“An all-butter croissant,” Seungmin says with confidence, even though he is yet to make out Minho in the building. There are some tables free at the window, and Seungmin really hopes that Minho will have the thought to sit there, in eyeline of his angel. “He always orders that.” 

Seungmin tries to fight the smile when they sit at the window, all-butter croissant included. He knows Minho. Not to the depths and crevices of his soul like he would like to, but enough to know his cafe order, his morning habits, that he blinks heavily when he’s tired. All these little human things - Seungmin knows. And he is still learning. 

“Seriously,” Jeongin says eventually, hopping off his back. Seungmin winces and flexes the feathers Jeongin had misplaced. “How are you managing the guardian-angel business without a halo bond. It seems… almost an insurmountable challenge.” Jeongin finds the words. 

“I guess.” Seungmin steals a glance at his human. “There are some aspects to being unbonded which are difficult. Like right now. I have no more idea of Minho’s safety right now than you do - and it’s incredibly unnerving. I have a bristling energy inside of me that is reaching out to bond, and it  _ can’t _ . I always have this horrible, churning feeling that something bad is going to happen to Minho every time I lose sight of him, even in the apartment.” Seungmin presses his palms into his eyes. He takes a deep breath and focuses back out onto the window. The sun’s rays are delicately avoiding his eyes, as to not damage them. He thanks her. 

“I couldn’t live like that,” Jeongin says. His voice is laced with empathy, verging on a kind pity. “But, Seungminnie… maybe this is why Chan gave you Minho.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe… no one else could live like that. He probably knew that Minho would be apathetic or even hostile to angels again, considering the damage losing his last angel probably did to his psyche-” Seungmin winces- “But you’re patient, hard-working and endlessly dedicated. You have enough bite to push him when he needs pushed, but enough softness to know when to fall back and give him space. I’m not sure any other angel would be suited for Minho. Kim Seungmin with no halo is still twice the angel that most of us in Heaven are, I think Chan knew that… somewhere deep down. Deep down, in an odd-twisted way, you’re made for Minho.” 

Seungmin wishes he had taken Minho’s guidance and ordered himself a smoothie as his mouth suddenly loses its moisture. “Did Chan tell you all this?” Seungmin asks. He considers Jeongin, who seems to tower over him, eyes wise beyond their years. 

“Chan could never articulate his thoughts that well. He always speaks in riddles,” Jeongin shrugs. He flops his arms out of the window and leans his face into the gentle sky. Seungmin can’t take his eyes off him. Jeongin made more sense in the past two minutes than he ever had in his entire life, saying  _ exactly _ what Seungmin needed to hear, without even realizing he did it. 

“Do I have something on my face?” Jeongin asks, then pulls an exaggerated pose, “And before you say it - I know it’s coated in handsomeness.” 

“It is,” Seungmin hums. Jeongin backs up at the hunt in Seungmin’s eyes, “I kind of want to taste it-” Jeongin squeals and dodges Seungmin’s lunge. 

It isn’t until they’re both collapsed on the floor, chests heaving with exertion (stupid human bodies), that Seungmin realizes he hadn’t been watching for Minho  _ at all. _ He shoots up so fast his wings bat against the television and almost topple it. He doesn’t care. He’s cursing himself for ignoring his human - what type of angel forgets their human? Anything could have happened to him-

Jeongin’s hand on his shoulder stills him. “He’s fine. I asked Chan to take a swoop in on his way past to make sure he was ok.” 

“And Felix?” Seungmin asks, although he isn’t entirely sure why. Jeongin’s twinkling eyes seem to tell Seungmin that Jeongin knows more about it than he does. 

“He’s fine, too. He ate too much sweet food and now he has a stomach ache.” 

Seungmin feels calmer already. Jeongin’s effect on him is momentous. Jeongin has this way of shrugging off big things that makes them seem insignificant, and when faced with worries and anxieties, it is calming, settling Seungmin into a firm spot and realising that the problem doesn’t control him; he has the power here. 

“You’ll be a good guardian angel.” He settles on this, even though it isn’t technically the full truth but Seungmin can’t express the truth without it seeming more than it is: Jeongin is destined to be more than a guardian angel. He’s going to do something great. Seungmin is so sure of it that he almosts calls Chan down here to give him a stern talking to for worrying Jeongin with the exam so much.

“I know,” Jeongin replies cheekily. “Between you and Hyunjin, it’s not like there is much competition.” 

Seungmin rolls his eyes and pretends that he hasn’t just caught a glimpse into the fledgling’s long and prosperous future. Chan might have his work cut out for him, but Seungmin realizes that Chan might just be the smartest and most prolific angel in all of the heavens: even moreso than the archangels, lest it be blasphemous to say. 

  
  


It’s too easy to pretend he isn’t as relieved and excited as he is to see Minho walk through the door when he comes home. It’s even easier for Minho to see through his careful mask of indifference and poke fun at him.

“You’re like a puppy waiting for me to get home from work,” Minho coos. He walks over to the couch after carefully toeing his shoes off and ruffles Seungmin’s hair. “Cute.”

Seungmin knows that Minho can see through his irritation as he fixes his fringe - Minho’s hand stops it in his place. Minho pushes Seungmin’s hair back, exposing his forehead. There, he just stares at the plane of skin for a moment, then takes his hand away. In a blink of an eye Minho is peeling off the layers until he’s left in just a t-shirt. 

“What was the purpose of that?” Seungmin asks genuinely. Some things, he has learned, are strange human gestures. Like high-fives and fist-bumps. A universal type of language which Seungmin should really be more up to date with than he is. However, Minho just shrugs, flops onto the couch.

“Nothing. I just hadn’t seen your forehead in a while,” As if it is the most natural explanation. And - well, it  _ is. _ Seungmin accepts it perfectly. 

Minho tells Seungmin about his day with Felix. They didn’t do much, which settles the fear in Seungmin’s heart. They mostly just chatted in the cafe. They were there  _ hours _ but Seungmin understands that this is the first alone time that the two friends have had since the revelations came to light, so a heavy conversation was probably overdue. Curious, Seungmin asks what they talked about. Minho’s less than subtle when he fiddles with the television remote and pretends that he’s too engrossed in scrolling through the applications to find the Netflix store and asks Seungmin to repeat himself.

Seungmin does, stomach feeling a little tight and weird at the dusting of pink on Minho’s ears and the flesh of his cheeks. 

“Oh, we just chatted. Nothing interesting,” Minho lies. Seungmin lets him keep his secrets - it is none of his business, after all. Although a rogue, childish thought whispers in his ears that maybe they were talking about  _ him. _ Seungmin’s ears glow the same shade as the human’s. “He did mention some movies he thought you would like, if you want to watch them?” 

“What, now?” 

“Why not?”

Seungmin looks between them. “We’re not in our pajamas.” Seungmin grows defensive when Minho stalls, then doubles over laughing. “Why are you laughing? You have to watch movies in pajamas - you told me that!”

Minho steadies himself, and Seungmin very professionally represses the urge to smother him with a pillow as he wipes away fake tears at Seungmin’s expense. “I did - I did tell you that. Okay, angel, let’s get our pajamas on and I will make some snacks then we can braid each other’s hair and talk about boys.”

“Can-” Seungmin scuks his lip in thought, then decides to put the request out there anyway. Even if Minho laughs at him for it, it’s something he wants to try. “Can we do facemasks, too?” 

Minho’s laughter lines around his eyes smooth out. He blinks, gently, the way one does to entice a stray cat, slow and non-threatening. His mouth breaks into a small, gentle smile. A lovely stroke of peasantry on his features - it suits him so much, it makes Seungmin want to fix it that way forever. “Yes, Seungmin. Of course we can.” His voice is one step away from fondness, and the way they seem to be teetering over this unnamed precipice has Seungmin’s gut churning once again. He makes no move to bring himself away from the precipice, in fact, he sends Minho a genuine smile.

“Thank you.” 

The night moved on in the gentle way she does. They watched some movie about space, Seungmin wasn’t sure of the title, but he enjoyed it. In fact, he enjoyed it so much that it introduced a pang of homesickness to the heavens which he felt only the moon could understand. 

Minho had eaten some jellied candy, little baby-shaped things which apparently it’s illegal to eat any other way than biting the head off first. Seungmin thinks Minho is full of shirt, but he listens intently anyway. The credits rolled, Minho wiped the powdered sugar on Seungmin’s plaid pajama pants and Seungmin grabbed the offending hands, and pulled him off the couch and onto the balcony.

Mimnho made a big fuss about the cold, especially how it makes the tacky face mask seem like ice on his face. Seungmin moved towards him, focusing his essence a little closer to the skin in hopes that the heat will radiate enough to quell the complaints. 

Whether by the essence, or by the proximity, Minho’s mouth snapped close and he didn’t complain again. Although, some minutes later, Minho disappeared for a brief moment, only for a blanket to be draped around Seungmin’s shoulders. Seungmin lifted the other side and they shared it. 

“Why do you like being outside like this so much?”

“It reminds me of the heavens. Sometimes being inside too much makes angels feel a little claustrophobic - it isn’t in our nature to be like that, especially in a human form for so long.” 

“So this helps? It recharges you?” Minho asks. He’s fingering the tattered edge of the blanket with fingers, some dexterity lost in the chill. 

“The sun and moon… they are the two most important things in this universe. In the heavens, we use the sun’s rays to draw essence, to refuel our mind and spirit. She is endlessly generous to us. The moon… she serves to ease, rather than refuel. Her waxing and waning reassures us that things we lose, or things we fail, will return and we can always try again. We can be reborn a thousand times and each iteration is as beautiful and worthy of praise as the last.” 

The silence is fitting for the sky. Dark blue, clouds like spilled ink as they gently float overhead, dipping behind highrises and out again. Minho stops fingering the blanket.

“And… the stars?” His chest sounds tight, voice quiet. Seungmin takes a peek, but Minho is staring defiantly ahead. 

“I don’t know of the stars. But you do. Could you tell me?” He’s always eager to see Minho’s knowledge. Usually Minho is eager to show it, but this time, Minho points a finger to a small cluster of stars, almost blinded by the city lights. 

“That is Virgo. The city is bad for stargazing.” He says. His voice is a little faraway, as if his mind is elsewhere. Seungmin continues anyway.

“My star sign is Virgo.” 

Minho turns to him, face wired with a weird expression that cracks the edges of the hardening mask. In his eyes, Seungmin can see anxiety bubbling… but the gentle purple hues express something else. Something soft, like wonder lining the bulk of his emotions at the moment.

“Angels have birthdays?”

“Not in the traditional way. We aren’t  _ born _ suddenly like humans. We slowly form over decades - sometimes centuries. Our birth is so slow that the line between fledgling and ‘ball of boundless essence’ is blurry towards the end. So our sign is determined by Pluto, who changes every thirty years. Did Jisung not tell you this?” Seungmin senses the pain in Minho’s soul, a sharp stab of a thing.

“No. I never asked.” 

The bags under minho’s eyes suddenly seem deeper, gentle lines pulling his frown down. He tugs the blanket closer to himself, as if to bury the guilt he carries. The guilt isn’t fair for him to carry, but Seungmin knows that burdens like these aren’t so easily shaken. Seungmin tries to focus his calming energy as much as he can, into the palm of his hand. He takes Minho’s hand into his own.

Minho flinches only a little, before settling into the chair a little more. Some moments later, the chair makes a heavy scraping sound when Minho shuffles closer, leaning on Seungmin. Taking the help he needs from his angel. Allowing Seungmin to soothe the guilt from his aura, allowing Seungmin to take care of him. 

“You love the stars. Is this why you prefer the night?” Seungmin asks. It’s an innocent question, but Minho considers it seriously. Minho’s gaze is heavy on his face and when he meets Minho’s eyes, neck a little awkwardly angled, they’re calculating and bright. Every inch of his face is under careful examination from Minho, even the dip of his neck, the shadow of his Adam's apple - and a heavy, significant linger on his mouth. 

“I prefer the sun.” He says simply. It might be simple, but it is spoken with significance that Seungmin is unaware of. He knows it means something, something important. If it’s important to Minho, it’s important to Seungmin by extension, that is true, but this… his feathers twitch, the faint smell of endearing recollection, smooth as honey, wafts in the gentle breeze. This involves him, too. Seungmin’s breath catches when Minho shifts in his seat - for a tortuous second, he thinks Minho is leaning towards him. Minho notices Seungmin’s reaction, and the eyes shift back and forth from his eyes to his mouth. Minho knows exactly where Seungmin’s mind went - and Minho is there, wordlessly asking for permission. 

The moonlight paints milk across the scraps of Minho’s skin that show through the shoddily applied mask, gleaming between the cracks. The little swipe of saliva on his lips when he licks at them nervously glitters obscenely. Even worse still: Minho’s eyes catch the moon’s beams with every quick glance to the one place Seungmin wishes Minho  _ wouldn’t  _ look. The flashes of her light spell in morse code  _ Please Angel, you want it just as much as me. _

And this scares Seungmin - because he  _ does. _

The moon taunts him when she casts her glow perfectly to highlight the unsure eagerness of his human - that delicate human balance of uncharted territory that Minho is aching to explore. Minho’s soul dances such a lively tune, even though it shakes, it continues on. It begs for an angel’s touch.

“We- we can’t.” Seungmin says. It comes out much less convincing that he planned. More of a question, more of a position begging to be changed. Minho squeezes his hand.

“You want to, though?” Minho’s voice is barely audible, afraid that a loud noise will ruin the delicate position they’re in. This scene can’t be replicated: they both know this. This is an important moment. A defining moment in Minho’s life. Seungmin can feel all this and yet he fails to know what to do. He should know  _ exactly _ what to do in these life-defining situations to lead Minho in the right direction - but how is he meant to think of Minho’s future when the only part he can think about is him being right there beside him? 

It’s entirely selfish. Seungmin nods in response to Minho’s question. Minho’s hand tugs him back - not wanting Seungmin to move away. 

“I want to, too.” 

Seungmin swallows, and he can’t help it when tears begin to well in his eyes. This moment is momentous - and yet, Seungmin doesn’t know what to do. His entire training is to be defined in moments like this - but the one time Seungmin’s angelic prowess is called into action, he is sitting here, in his pajama-clad human form, hair pushed back with a hairband, face slathered in a pink mask, trembling under the pressure of it all, wondering how on earth he let himself be drawn in to Minho like this. How he let it get this far. 

The rejection could ruin Minho - but following his gut instincts… could set them on a route not too dissimilar from Minho’s last relationship with a guardian angel. Only the damage would be irreparable this time - the heart can only take so much heartbreak. The soul can only lose so much. 

“I don’t know what to do,” He mumbles. He knows his voice is thick, choking with tears he’s trying to hold back. How did he let this happen? 

“It’s okay-” 

“It’s not,” Seungmin says. His voice cracks. “I’m your angel, I should know what to do, but here I am - I don’t- I don’t know. How did we get here? How did I fail my angel duties so much that I’m in this position - that I’m putting  _ you _ in this position -” Seungmin hides his shame in his hands - “Oh, Human - I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

Seungmin’s guilt is borne to the world, watery eyes and all. Minho gently takes his face in his hands - not caring about the tacky residue - and raises his head to meet him in the eyes. He’s not angry, he’s not disappointed - his soul is reaching out, calming and  _ loving. _

“Seungminnie -” The nickname makes Seungmin’s chest clench, “You’ve changed my life. Do you need me to remind you how empty I was before you came? I was planning on living my life like that forever, you know, if that’s what it took. Then you came along… with your do-no-harm take-no-shit attitude and you made me  _ alive _ again. And not angel-Seungmin-” He raises Seungmin’s left hand to the side of his head, not quite his cheek, but enough for Seungmin’s thumb to rest delicately on his temple, “Not human-Seungmin-” Then the right, “But  _ you. _ All of you.” 

Seungmin swears the moon is spreading a spotlight directly onto Minho’s face, because it splits the night like a crack in the universe. 

“I want to take care of you, Seungmin.” Seungmin’s breath hitches. “I know what I want - I know what  _ you  _ want. The burden is too heavy, even for your crazy strong shoulders to bear alone. Let me take the burden for you.” With Seungmin’s hands still on his face, he loosens his grip and brings his own to Seungmin’s cheeks. The cold hands bring awareness to how hot and sticky his cheeks are.

“This could end badly,” Seungmin says, so so softly that he isn’t even sure that Minho will hear him. He does. He only shifts closer.

“It won’t, though. You’re too stubborn to let that happen.” 

And - he’s right. Seungmin will let nothing come between his human and the happiness that is destined for him. If someone wants to take Seungmin away, they’d have to pull him away from Minho with all the strength in the heavens. If things go badly, Seungmin will sit and rethread each of the trillions of strings of their relationship string by hand, if that’s what it takes. 

In the Universe, there are three certainties: The sun will rise again in the morning; the new moon will come each month; and Seungmin will be by his human’s side no matter what. Even if the sun falls from her place in the sky, if the moon crumbles to dust, if the archangels rip Seungmin’s wings from him feather by damned feather - he will remain by Minho’s side. Not out of obligation, not from contract, but because he truly  _ wants _ to. Maybe even a little selfishly. 

Minho’s eyes shift to his lips and back to his eyes, and Seungmin, with goosebumps sparking under his skin, with trembling feathers and with lungs that can’t quite seem to catch their breath, nods. 

He  _ feels _ Minho before he feels him - his heartbeat pounds widely, his nervous excitement tastes like a wonderfully sharp blend of spiced fruit, his aura feeds into Seungmin, he feels it through his mouth, through the hands on his face, searching for its bond.

Of course, there is no bond there - but what it does next shocks Seungmin. Minho’s aura gives up on searching for the bond, and instead, travels somewhere deep into Seungmin’s chest and entwines with the heart of his own essence. 

It feels vulgar in its own way. To have such a pure, angelic essence tainted by the human soul. Seungmin can feel the aura leaving splotches of purple inside his essence, like two glorious creatures having a heated battle inside his chest. 

Seungmin kisses back. Timid movements, which Minho gently follows. He lets Seungmin choose the pace. It’s almost too much: Minho’s soft, steadfast lips on his own; Minho’s breath fawning over his face with every exhale of the nose; Minho’s hands holding Seungmin like some delicate creature. 

Seungmin, careful not to brush his palm against Minho’s cheek, tilts his head slightly to the side so that he can taste more of Minho. The kiss grows deeper, Seungmin taking Minho’s bottom lip between his own with a gentle suck. Seungmin feels Minho gasp into his mouth and his aura shudders wildly inside him. Minho brings Seungmin closer to his face, spurring him on, asking his angel for more - and Seungmin will give it to him. 

Seungmin maneuvers his own bottom lip between Minho’s - and Minho takes the lead once again, desperate for it. Seungmin shivvers at the deft swipe of tongue at his lip, the gentle nibbling there asking for more, more, angel more. But Seungmin can’t - not right now. He’s dizzy with the mix of his own and Minho’s souls playing around like his gut is a playground. He lets Minho nibble, lets the deft tongue swipe - Minho seems happy to explore only the ever brief gap between Seungmin’s lips whenever the timing is right. 

It’s painfully difficult to peel away when Minho tries to push closer, near crawling out of his seat and onto Seungmin’s lap to go get closer, feel more - and Seungmin understands, he  _ does. _ He feels the pull too - the need to be right beside Minho, have their bodies separated only by their clothes, not even space for a sliver of moonlight to break between them. 

Seungmin wonders if he looks as shell-shocked as Minho does. Ruffled hair, bright eyes, pink face and swollen, shiny lips which - what a cruel play by the angels of creation, to make humans look  _ more _ kissable when the kissing is finished. 

Seungmin feels the cold air fill his lungs in shattered pants, no longer warmed between their faces, between their lips. It’s a lot colder out than he realised. Minho’s shuffling alerts him to the worry he’s carrying on his shoulders, the plump lip now being gnawed on and the blanket’s fringe being fingered teresely. 

Seungmin pulls forward and presses a gentle reassurance on Minho’s lips, settling the pained lip. He feels the exhale of relief against his mouth. When he pulls away, he presses their foreheads together. Minho is fiddling with their entwined hand, running his fingers over the interlocking of their fingers, like he’s not entirely sure it’s real.

Seungmin understands human beauty. It’s been right in front of him this entire time. 

_ O’Angel... _ the moon echoes. 

_ This is entirely your fault. You knew exactly what you were doing when you made Minho glow under your light - don’t act like this wasn’t your plan,  _ Seungmin thinks. 

_ O’Angel… the bee only drowns in its honey when there is no one there to pull it out. _

There was a moral, or a metaphor there somewhere - but how was Seungmin meant to concentrate when his human was smiling so delicately, so truly, that Seungmin thinks for a moment - a little spark of white-hot thought - that maybe the world is being saved right now. Maybe the world is being saved in millions of little ways every single day. Maybe that’s the truth about humanity, and about being human - that maybe every act of compassion, love, sincerity, even an illegal kiss, in their own way, save the world that they exist in.

Seungmin isn’t sure. He doesn’t care right now, because Minho tells him it’s time to wash the face masks off, giggling, and shows Seungmin his hands - the mask from Seungmin’s face transferred there. Right as Minho grins at him before opening the balcony door - Seungmin catches a little gold-silver glimmer on his lip. Seungmin doesn’t tell him, and he lets it catch his eye with every move of the light for the remainder of the evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally.   
> this isn't beta read because I wanted to post this ASAP and I currently have a long list of things to finish today ;-; sorry if there's any mistakes...   
> thank you for being patient with the slow update - hopefully the wait was worth it... >:)


	12. 12. the bee and its honey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** Chapter Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of mutual dub-con. ***
> 
> Sorry for the delay of this chapter! I was focusing on my new Seungsung fic for a while - the first chapter is up if you'd like to check it out!! (It has no comments and I want to cry LOL) 
> 
> I wanted to upload this on Valentine's Day but.... um. It ended up as a 14k chapter so.... grab some tea!

“One bite isn’t going to kill you,” Minho lies. “Look - it’s not solid enough to chew, you’d be fine.” 

Seungmin pushes the spoon of hazelnut spread away from his mouth for the third time that morning. Caught up in the blindsided affection for his human, he’d forgotten how truly irritating he could be whenever he was in the mood.

Minho made airplane noises and flew the spoon into Seungmin’s face again, leaving a dot of chocolate on his cheek. Seungmin bats him away with his wings. 

“I’m not interested in human food, if you keep trying it I’m going to throw the jar out the window.” Minho pulls a face in response and helps himself to another spoonful. Not the most nutritional of lunches, but Seungmin sees no issues in Minho’s diet, so says nothing… except, “Make sure you brush your teeth.” 

“I think you have a tooth fetish.” 

“I think if I swung my wing hard enough I would break your sternum.” Seungmin presses his wing firmly against Minho’s chest. Minho pretends to bite it in response. Seungmin gets handed a tissue and he swipes the dot of chocolate from his face, smoothly shooting the tissue into the trash. He was a good shot at flutterby, the same mechanics apply. 

“Ten points,” He says smugly to Minho. Minho nods his spoon side to side.

“Nuh-uh. It bounced off the rim: 5 points.” 

Seungmin sits back in his chair and folds his arms. “How do  _ you _ know the rules…” 

Minho gives up on pushing Seungmin with human food. Seungmin knows he’s doing it to be annoying more than anything else, so he doesn’t fret much more about it. 

Later, Seungmin is stirred out of his book by a heavy flap of wings - a heavy enough sound that Seungmin could pinpoint a mile away. He carefully slips his bookmark between the crease of the pages and slides it back in his bookshelf. His head peeks out the door the same time as Minho’s - although Minho’s face is painted with a small amount of thinly veiled distress.

“Who is it?” He whispers.

_ ‘It’s Chan.’ _

“Well what is he doing here?” Minho tries to peer into the space more, but fails to see around the corner. Seungmin passes some calming energy his way, not enough to alter his emotional state but enough for Minho to feel the intended reassurance. 

Seungmin rounds the corner, Minho following behind. Chan is there, his robes spilling onto the floor, golden-tipped pale wings tucked flush to his back without a single feather astray. He’s perusing the little decorations on Minho’s shelf, chuckling a little at a marble statuette of a cherub - a moving-in gift from Changbin. 

“Chan?” Seungmin’s voice is clear, but there’s a cautious draw to it. “What are you doing here?” 

Chan turns around, silk following his movements. Any apprehension Seungmin has is swallowed, lost in the deep dimples of Bang Chan’s grin, which is desperately trying to be straightened. 

“I’m sorry to drop by unannounced. Congratulations on the new apartment, Minho. It’s a great improvement,” Chan says sincerely, even bowing a little to the human. No other angel of Chan’s level would be caught wingless bowing to a human. Seungmin appreciates his luck with being under Chan’s leadership. 

“Yeah, it’s more spacious, I guess…” Minho says half-heartedly. He looks around the apartment, trying to find something more to talk about but comes up empty. He decides to look at Seungmin instead. Seungmin forces himself to look straight ahead lest he starts thinking of things he most definitely should  _ not _ be thinking in front of Chan. The moment they shared on the balcony had not been mentioned, nor has the kiss been repeated. Seungmin’s gut twists at the memory of the unfamiliar heat on his mouth.

Chan gives Seungmin a little smirk - because the angels both know that wasn’t exactly what Chan had meant. Nonetheless, Chan continues to vibrate with excitement. “I have good news, Seungmin.” 

“Oh?” The noise is one of genuine surprise - it isn’t often angels get  _ good _ news. In fact, hardly ever. Partially due to an angel’s intuition, it’s rare anything comes as such a surprise to warrant it news at all, and any surprise information is usually an act of misfortune out of their control: sickness, natural disasters, other humans inflicting misery. With the excitement bouncing Chan’s aura around the room like a rogue ball in flutterby, Seungmin can’t help mirroring Chan’s expression. “What is it?”

Chan plunges his hand into the pocket of his robe like he’d been waiting for a millennium for Seungmin to ask. From it, he pulls a scroll, shiny and new and written in familiar iridescent ink. Seungmin would recognise the scroll from a lifetime away: his own is tucked neatly in the very safest spot of his space in the Heavens. 

“Don’t tell me-” Seungmin looks between the scroll and Chan, “He did it?” 

Chan’s smile is a baring of teeth and gums and his head shakes essence onto the floor with the veracity of his nodding. Behind the glee, a warm feeling grows, one reserved for parents and teachers and all sorts of guides for the youth:  _ Pride. _

“Jeongin passed,” He confirms. Seungmin accepts the sudden hug, even leans into it and bounces with Chan. Jeongin worked  _ so _ hard. Harder than any of them. Being put under so much pressure to learn so much in such a short amount of time would have reduced any lesser angel to a pile of misery - but Jeongin trumped on with a smile on his face and ambition in the crux of his feathers. 

“Should I tell Changbin to come by later? He just left his apartment a little while ago.” Minho asks. His phone is in his hand, lax of judgement. Chan shakes his head, and looks for a moment like he’s about to pull Minho into the hug. Minho’s step back is hint enough. 

“No, it’s fine. How are the humans, anyway? I try and stop by as much as possible to check up on them but…” Chan lets Seungmin go. “You know how it is.” 

“You’re too busy!” Seungmin complains. “You haven’t joined us in the garden in  _ months. _ ” Chan has the audacity to look a little guilty, but he covers it by calling Seungmin cute and nuzzling into his arm. A realisation hits and Seungmin tugs his arm away.

“Why wasn’t I told about his ceremony? I would’ve liked to be there.” 

Chan’s feathers twitch in excitement - or nervousness, Seungmin can’t tell which. “He didn’t have a halo ceremony.” 

Something inside Seungmin drops. A guardian angel with a boundless halo is bad enough, ridiculed enough. But a Guardian Angel without  _ any _ halo? What sort of future was that? It isn’t enough to be pointed and whispered at, to see a dead thing atop your head, but to have the small shred of hope, of the ‘ _ maybe someday…’ _ taken away from you? That’s no life for an angel at all - especially not for Jeongin. 

“No - it’s not what you’re thinking,” Chan reassures, strong hands taking Seungmin’s wrists and bobbing them excitedly. “He’s going to be a General Guardian. He’s going to train alongside me until he’s ready to lead his own group of angels. I’m not sure how long it will take, but he learns best hands-on, which is why I pushed him through the Guardianship program so quickly.” 

Seungmin is stunned into silence. 

To become a General Guardian is to be one rank below the archangels. It is a prestigious position that a generous 1% of angels achieve, and usually it is after generations upon generations of regular guardianship. 

“So is the cherub going to be your boss?” Minho’s voice drags him out of his mind. He looks positively delighted at the thought.

“No.” Seungmin says firmly. 

“Is Jeongin nearby? I’d like to file a formal complaint about my angel.” 

Seungmin wiggles his hands from Chan’s and pokes Minho in all the places he knows he’s ticklish, voice growing louder to match the volume of Minho’s swallowed reluctant laughter. “No other angel would put up with your nonsense! If you get rid of me you’ll be sitting here rotting your teeth with your hazelnut spread!” 

Minho tries to catch his hands, but Seungmin is too fast, eventually Minho gives up on trying to stop Seungmin and focuses on trying to overpower him, jabbing his own fingers into the delicate spaces between his ribs, into the fleshy parts of his armpits, the vulnerable tuck beneath his chin. Seungmin once had been immune to such things: these tickles. But something changed, maybe his human form override this particular piece of his nervous system, maybe it was a psychological thing that Seungmin had developed given his increased time around humans, but nonetheless, the reaction was the same. Seungmin starts laughing in clear-cut honey tunes. 

When Seungmin eventually has enough and easily uses his reservoir of angelic strength to lift Minho with one hand and drop him onto the couch with a  _ whump _ , he catches the look on Chan’s face. Seungmin never claimed to be the best at deciphering the emotional displays of human features - but with his lack of halobond with Minho, he’s become somewhat attuned to how emotions creep into the wrinkles of the skin, the millimeter downturn of the lips, the 10% increase in pupil diameter - all of these tiny little tells that show whether the muscles try to hide it or not. And written as clear as day on Chan’s face is relief, maybe pride, maybe the satisfaction of taking a risk and having it - despite all odds - pay off. Seungmin wants to ask why his face is looking that way.

But he doesn’t - because a part of him is scared to know the answer. Navigating this space with Minho is an obstacle course in emotional turmoil - and to have it acknowledged by another person is a discussion that Seungmin isn’t ready for. 

He hasn’t even had the discussion with Minho. Or himself for that matter. Maybe that makes him a terrible angel - for committing such a sin against the heavens and not even confronting himself on his sin. An admittance of sin would indicate a crime. Seungmin doesn’t want to dissect the feelings of Minho sighing into his mouth, his hands hot on his cheeks, his soul tenderly exploring the essence of Seungmins heart in a sinful light. 

There is nothing sinful about his Human. To imply as such makes Seungmin’s feathers twitch. If he were to see it as such, there would be a process of repentance - which to Seungmin seems like a crime in and of itself? How can Seungmin repent a kiss when he is compelled to do it every time the light catches Minho’s eyes at the right angle in an explosion of amber? 

Chan, whether through acknowledgement of Seungmin’s internal dilemma, or through his generous privacy, says nothing. Rather, he gives Minho a hand up from the couch, where his legs are dangling over the back of the couch where he lies dramatically, feigning death from Seungmin’s careless treatment. Drama queen. 

“Changbin is here,” Chan says, moments before the lock clicks and the door casually swings open. Changbin has no reservations about swiping the spare key to the apartment and letting himself in whenever see fit,  _ apparently.  _ His shout of delight disrupts the gentle lapse of silence as they wait for Changbin’s presence to fill the room.

“BANG CHAN!” He shouts, face splitting in a smile. He makes his way to the angel and shakes his hand enthusiastically, “It’s great to see you again - we were wondering when you were gonna show your face again. Felix thought you were embarrassed by us and scampered.” 

This, Chan denied, “No! No of course not,” His face owlish in nature. Seungmin always found great pleasure in Chan’s befuddled face. “I’m busy, I don’t have the time Hyunjin or Seungmin do to lounge around.” 

“Hey! I don’t lounge around!” Seungmin complains.

Minho tongues his cheek and shrugs at Seungmin’s request for backup. Changbin catches the interaction and makes a cooing noise, pulling Seungmin into a horrible tangle reminiscent of a hug. Seungmin has to bend over slightly to reach Changbin’s height. The horrible entrapment lasts far too long - but Minho’s eyes seem to say  _ it didn’t last long enough _ as his eyes lift from the expanse of skin shown by the backless sweater. Seungmin fights his initial immediate reaction which is to stretch his wings in such a way to cover the exposed skin - but Chan would catch it with his all-knowing eyes. 

“Our Seungminnie has his hands full looking after Minho, right?” Changbin slaps him a hearty pat on the shoulder. Seungmin bristles at the nickname, a little embarrassed but not hating it as much as he wishes he would. 

“I’m happy he passed. He was nervous. He was shedding his feathers all over my goddamn carpet with his jitters,” Minho says for lack of anything else to say. He manages to tear his eyes from Seungmin. 

“ _ Figuratively _ shed his feathers,” Seungmin supplies to a worried Chan. Changbin looks between the three in confusion.

“Who passed? What’s going on?” Despite being clueless, the good atmosphere spreads, and a sideways smile grows on Changbin’s face. Seungmin isn’t sure if it’s one of the angel’s auras accidentally causing too much influence, or just a human with a heightened sense of emotional persuasiveness. 

“Jeongin passed an angel exam,” Minho supplies helpfully, and gleefully takes the chance to undermine Seungmin, “And he’s immediately promoted to a higher rank than Seungmin.” 

Seungmin rolls his eyes good-naturedly, truly he is happy for Jeongin. There is no jealousy there - Seungmin honestly wouldn’t  _ want _ the position of a General Guardian. An increased workload, the limited personal time, the stress, being the head of a collection of Guardian Angels and therein managing their Angel Exams - no thank you. He is perfectly happy lounging around in the spare bedroom of Minho’s apartment. 

“Wait- he what?” Changbin’s face suddenly falls serious. He asks Chan for confirmation. “He actually passed?” Chan’s face  _ splits _ with a smile, as though the huge pride is bubbling under the surface just waiting for an opportunity to jump onto his face. It’s answer enough, and Changbin runs to the balcony, battles with the annoying latch for a long enough period of time that Seungmin walks over and tugs on the handle at the awkward angle to open it, he almost propels himself over the balcony and lets out a battle cry: “JEONGIN!” 

The three exchange glances.

“Is that how you summon angels?” Minho watches Changbin jump up and down on the balcony, careening over to look for - an angel meteorite or something. 

“No.” “Not at all.” The angels reply, equally as plussed as Minho. Despite their cocked heads and their judgement - a huge bang and the distinct sound of glasses falling over inside the counter snaps them out of it.

“...Are you sure he passed?” Minho asks. Jeongin rubs his head where he vaulted head-first into the kitchen cabinet. He blinks harshly, his eyes not properly adjusting to human sight for a moment. He makes out Changbin and ignores the confused looks from the other angels. 

He responds to Changbin’s open-armed charge by batting him harshly with his wings. The powerful things send Changbin curling into himself on the floor as the abuse continues. “Ahhh! Stop! Why? Why?” 

“You can’t just  _ call _ me like that! I was sleeping!” Jeongin drops to the floor and continues the blows with his fists. They look like hard blows, but Seungmin sees how he significantly lightens the blow just before he makes contact with the body. 

“You said I could do it whenever I needed!” Changbin cries.

“In an  _ emergency!” _ Jeongin growls, but the puffs of his cheeks show more of his boyish joy than any real anger. Changbin senses this too and makes a big show of apologising, even going as far to try and kiss the angel on the cheek. Jeongin pulls back too hard into the air and accidentally brains himself on the ceiling. 

“You seem extraordinarily happy for our fledgling.” Chan gently tugs Jeongin to the floor and gently smooths the hair over his aching skull, though his eyes are trained on Changbin, still on the floor. 

“Jeongin normally doesn’t take to others very well,” Seungmin points out - noting how quick Jeongin was to start playing around with the human. It  _ was _ a little odd. Jeongin doesn’t even dispute the accusation, instead just mimics Seungmin in a high pitched nasal voice. Which sounds  _ nothing _ like him. “Stop laughing.” He tells Minho, who doesn’t. 

“Me and Jeongin are best friends - right?” Changbin grins, only a little bit of mocking in his voice. Jeongin sighs and tugs him up from the floor. He underestimates his strength and accidentally sends Changbin hurtling into Chan’s chest - although he doesn’t look too apologetic for it. 

“Your face is even uglier from that angle. Minho has Seungmin, Felix has Jisung, and you have no one. I spent time with you out of pity.” He says. Changbin only pouts and slaps him with a high-pitched  _ hmph _ which contrasts his all black big-chains-and-bigger-boots get-up.

Although his words are harsh, Jeongin laughs at the act and half-heartedly pushes Changbin away with his arms when he comes in for  _ another _ congratulatory hug. 

Considering the development regarding the youngest angel, Changbin insisted that it was essential to inform Jisung and Felix, and he did so over the phone. The room could hear their shouts of joy without the phone being put on speaker and Seungmin makes a note to check Changbin’s ear health later.

Felix and Jisung arrive in what seems like only moments, red-faced and panting enough to suggest they ran the entire way from the bus stop some three blocks away. The room continued with pourings of congratulations and unblemished joy. Seungmin catches Chan standing away from the middle of the celebrations, smiling at the amalgamation of humans and angels cheering for the youngest in the center of Minho’s apartment like he was savouring the moment, writing it into the deepest parts of his brain. Seungmin catches his eyes, and he finds himself looking away, not quite sure what to do with all the love suddenly directed his way. 

“Hey!” Jisung suddenly exclaims. All eyes turn to him. “Tune into angel radio and tell Hyunjin to get his ass down here!” 

Seungmin is quick to send Hyunjin a loud broadcast that the humans were calling for his presence, and he arrives shortly thereafter, face beaming with pride and immediately flying over to coo at Jeongin, only to be pulled into a pile of arms by Jisung and Felix. Noticing Changbin’s presence, Hyunjin flits over with a critical eye to examine the newfound eyebrow slit. Seungmin didn’t even notice it - but Hyunjin caught it instantly. That’s what happens when you spend decades specialising in designing human forms. 

“It looks good! I told you it would suit you,” He grins, then sets about trying to tame his hair which is sufficiently windswept from the journey. 

“Does it really?” He smiles.

“Yeah,” He pulls a hair tie from his wrist with his teeth and uses it to pull his hair into a ponytail, flicking out two strands to frame his face, “I could kiss you.” 

“Oh?” Changbin chuckles, trying to tame his smile into something less mischievous, “Should I turn my cheek then?”

“I may actually do it,” Hyunjin warns, earning a laugh from Changbin. Jeongin makes gagging noises. Jisung helps himself to a soda from Minho’s fridge, taking one out for Felix and Minho too. Minho looks at the soda can like it’s offended him, not quite sure to thank Jisung for his thoughtfulness or scold him for helping himself to the contents of his fridge. 

Seungmin watches Minho’s face settle into acceptance and he takes his place sitting on the arm of the couch. A strip of wet lingers on his lip when he takes a sip of the sugary drink and Seungmin wants so desperately to kiss it.

It isn’t that it’s been playing on his mind constantly or anything, but every so often Minho will lick his lip, or apply lip balm, or a grain of rice will be stuck there - and the memories pounce in guerilla attack formation on Seungmin’s mind and it’s all he can do but try not to stare too obviously at Minho. Most of the time he fails, and he ends up clicking into reality with Minho smirking at him, or innocently asking  _ ‘What are you looking at?’ _ with madness in his eyes. 

That isn’t even the worst part. 

The worst is when Seungmin catches Minho staring at him in the same way. When Seungmin is reading and he has the habit of mouthing the words, or when he’s laughing at something on Minho’s phone (Felix has taken to sending funny videos to Minho specifically to show Seungmin), or when he has a song stuck in his head and he purses his lips in a mock whistle while he bobs along to the monologued tune - Minho’s eyes critical on his mouth. Or his exposed back in the backless sweater. Or his sharp collarbones in that one t-shirt which is a  _ little  _ too big along the neckline. Something about being the object of desire is scarier than being the subject of it. 

To be looked at by Minho in such a way … it’s out of his control. No amount of self-regulation can stop those lingering eyes. It exposes Seungmin naked in a way which he had never expected to feel before. Is this how all humans feel when growing close to one another? Like they’re slowly being peeled of their layers until they’re raw and naked, at the mercy of the other, hoping they’ll be gentle with the tender spots of your soul? 

Ugh, it’s all too much. Seungmin needs a drink. 

A glass of pineapple juice is thrust into his hand before he even makes a move, Minho’s fingers brushing against his own for a moment too long. 

“You look thirsty.” Is all the explanation he gets. Seungmin finds himself ushered onto a single-seater alongside Hyunjin, who rests his head on his shoulders. Seungmin fingers the straw in his drink, swirling it around and watching the clouds within the drink whirlpool around it. “It’s sharper and more acidic. It’s refreshing - like toothpaste. You’ll like it.” 

Seungmin immediately takes a testing sip. It’s a little infuriating how easily Minho knows him, when he hardly knows these things himself.

“Hey - is that real food?” Hyunjin eagerly shifts to look at the glass, almost spilling the drink entirely with how much Seungmin was jostled. Seungmin hums, resuming his drink. He avoids Minho’s eyes for the fact he knows they’re glued to Seungmin’s lips delicate around the straw. Without the halobond, he can still feel the eyes burning holes in his skull. 

“Chan! Seungmin is breaking the law-” Jeongin cries, tugging on Chan’s robes. Chan laughs at Seungmin’s challenging stare. 

“We’re all breaking the law right now,” Chan says fondly. “When else in history have angels and humans coexisted like this? Jisung close your mouth right now.” Jisung sinks back into the couch, crossly taking a swig of soda. 

“What was Jisung going to say?” Hyunjin asks.

“Don’t worry about it, Jinnie,” Chan says in  _ that _ tone of voice. Hyunjin and Seungmin share a look.  _ That’s odd. _ They agree. 

“There’s no other recorded coalition of humans and angels, besides Archangel Lucifer - and-” Seungmin takes a glance at Jisung, who is staring intently at his can and trying to pretend he is infatuated with the ingredients label. “Aside from that, are we the first? In all of history?” Seungmin pushes.

Chan’s shoulders tighten, and Jeongin catches something that makes him shrink from Chan’s side and take root on the other couch seat. This time, Minho is the one who meets Seungmin’s eyes, he’s suspicious of something. Seungmin doesn’t think Chan would ever intentionally withhold information from him, but then again - he did. With Minho and Jisung. Who’s to say that’s the only secret under his silk? 

“This is the first.” He says, although it comes out awkward, like the words form weird on his tongue. None of the angels are convinced, nor Minho. Jisung’s still reading intently at the ingredients on his can. Felix picks up on the behaviour and the atmosphere. He slaps Minho hard enough on the leg to make him yelp, then dramatically fall onto Felix whining about his agony. 

“This is the first time we’ve all been together! Apart from the time you knocked me and Changbin unconscious and forgot about us!” Felix says this cheerily, but the angels in the room cringe at the memory. Seungmin agrees, it wasn’t their brightest moment as all-seeing servants of Heaven. “Why don’t we celebrate? Minho moved home, Jeongin passed his exam, and Jisung finally learned how to pick up his dirty socks!” 

They all cheer at the final victory, Seungmin clapping excitedly and letting out a gentle ‘yay’ while Minho whoops and cheers loudly, shaking Felix side to side in celebration. The sudden noise spooks Jisung, who looks around with wide eyes until he realises he’s the butt of the joke and he pretends to start punching Felix. 

With Felix’s sunny disposition gearing everyone else into the same mood, the mood lifts, all talk of angels-and-humans fading, but it will sit in Seungmin’s mind. Somewhere nestled far back, filed away for a later date. For now, though, he joins the celebrations and even lets the humans teach him a card game. He cleared the board and everyone refused to play with him after that. 

The get-together is a lot calmer than the previous one, probably due to the lack of alcohol and sun nectar preventing the boys from becoming clumsy and heavy-footed. Although, Jeongin at one point gets too excited and accidentally loses corporeality and falls through the floor, which has the room bursting into fits of laughter. Even as Chan dragged him back up from the neck of his robes, scolding the others for laughing, he was fighting fits of his own laughter. 

Changbin offers to grab some food, and Hyunjin is eager to go with. Seungmin is momentarily confused by the eagerness, but then he remembers that the other angels don’t have such contact with the human world. Something as simple as walking down a crowded street, bags of hot food wrapped close to the chest to keep warm from the windchill is foreign, romantic even. Seungmin might be a little guilty of romanticising the mundane human existence - but is seeing something mundane as breathtakingly wonderful really such a bad thing? 

He thinks not. 

At some point, Minho winds up sitting on the arm of the chair Seungmin is occupying. One of Minho’s legs hook over Seungmin’s, the back of his knee snug against the small of Seungmin’s thigh. Seungmin wishes to trail his fingers there, feel the delicate tendons working at the underside of the knee. The backs of the knees, the soft spots beside the hip bones, the nape of the neck, the wrist - all of these places call for the Angel’s touch and it’s slowly killing him that they are covered by nasty slips of cloth. So he tugs on the lobe of Minho’s ear, only in experimentation. Minho doesn’t flinch from his conversation with Felix, although Felix’s eyes follow the action curiously before returning to the task at hand. 

Minho doesn’t shift from his place, even as Changbin and Hyunjin return with food and he has to awkwardly balance his plate on the armchair between his legs. Even as Jisung offers him his place on the couch, still Minho doesn’t shift. He threatens to feed Seungmin some sesame chicken and Seungmin threatens to shove him and his plate off the chair entirely. 

“What do you think?” 

The silence makes Seungmin and Minho stop fidgeting and jabbing at each other. 

“See - I told you they weren’t even listening-” Jisung complains. Changbin rolls his eyes and feeds him a mouthful of noodles to shush him. Seungmin takes notes.

“We were planning on going out tonight. We haven’t had a night out with you in… a long time, you know? There’s this really good club my aunt bought over last year, we could probably get free drinks for the night. Or if you want to go somewhere quieter there’s a cozy bar near Felix and Jisung’s place. It’s just a suggestion, if you want to chill here that’s fine too but you seem…” Changbin stumbles and coughs over the last words. “You know.” 

“I seem  _ what, _ Changbin?” 

“You know what I’m trying to say, don’t make me say it,” Changbin scrunches his nose up at the thought of emotional vulnerability. Felix pats his leg comfortingly and scolds Minho. 

“You know Changbin hates telling us that he loves us, don’t be so cruel.” Minho and Felix giggle at the groan as Changbin tucks his feet under him and pokes at his food.

“Why am I always the victim?” 

“It’s because you’re the shortest,” Jeongin supplies helpfully, patting the top of Changbhin’s head. Chan pulls Jeongin out of range of Changbin’s swing. 

“I think…” Minho twirls his chopsticks around his noodles. “I think a club would be fun. You’re right - it  _ has  _ been a while. But if anyone suggests shots I am leaving,” He warns. The room practically brightens with the pair of humans beaming back at Minho, like this was something huge, a sign of spring after a long winter - and maybe it was. 

Minho seems to catch the lost look on Jisung and Seungmin’s faces - not quite sure where their place in this lies. The other angels are too far detached, they have no reason to join nor would they particularly enjoy shedding their duties for a night to be crammed into a building full of sweaty, drunk humans. “Seungmin and Jisung can come too, right?” Minho says - although given the cheer that Minho’s answer had given the two, he could probably ask for  _ any _ clause and they’d agree. 

“Yes! Of course, if they want to come, Seungmin is our friend!” Changbin insists.

“Am I not your friend?” Jisung pouts. 

Changbin swivels his head with a scowl. “You’re Felix’s boyfriend and Minho’s ex-whatever.” Felix stifiles a smile and pets Jisung’s hair when he makes a scene of wailing in Changbin’s direction. 

Like a switch Jisung takes a breath and takes a drink of his (third) soda, “Sure, I’ll come. What type of weirdo turns down free drinks?”    
“It’s not like you’d pay for your drinks anyway…” Felix mutters, but it falls deaf to Jisung’s ears. 

The group decides plans spontaneously, and suddenly Seungmin is sitting alone with the other angels and Jisung, the three humans marching off to Minho’s room to fix-up their appearances a little before they move out. Minho is typically the ‘notify plans three-working-days in advance’ type of person, so the complacency with spontaneous plans to go out left Seungmin a little empty-handed. 

A firm body slips beside him on the seat, much too wide to comfortably share and Seungmin ends up phasing his wings through the arm to prevent the feathers getting squashed. 

“How are you doing, Seungmin?” Chan asks. There is a smile on his face which Seungmin doesn’t like one bit. 

“I’m fine, why? What’s everyone looking at me like that for?” The other pair of angels whistle nonchalantly although not with shame as they’re caught out.

“Well… you’re going to a club.” Seungmin hums. “You’re probably the first angel to ever go  _ clubbing. _ ” 

This results in Hyunjin chittering to himself in the corner, and Seungmin isn’t sure why it’s all that funny. His confusion is clear on his face, so Hyunjin explains with giggles punctuating his sentences. “Of all angels to go  _ clubbing _ . Seungmin - you’d be the last person we’d expect. If anything, we’d expect you to be the first Angel with a library card.” 

“My library card is in my dresser.” He cocks his head which only results in more laughter. He gets shifted with every laugh of Chan’s, to the point where his hands grow white gripping the seat to prevent him being caught in the riptide and ending up on his lap. 

“It’s like a social experiment,” Jeongin’s eyes light up devilishly, and it’s all Hyunjin can to to slap his stomach and beg him to stop. Eventually, Hyunjin taps out and disappears from view - probably going somewhere far far away to settle himself. It’s then that Chan tugs Seungmin into a choking hug. 

“Me and Jeongin have a lot of work to do, but I’ll see you later, Minnie. Be good and don’t get into any trouble tonight.” 

Jeongin waves a parting, “Don’t do drugs.” And after popping their heads into the humans to announce their departure, the trio disappear with a heavy flap of wings from Chan. With the absence of the other angels leaving Jisung and Seungmin alone, Jisung takes this opportunity to scoot to the side of the couch closest to Seungmin as casually as possible. 

“What’s wrong?” Seungmin asks, because Jisung looks like he’s trying to tie a knot with his eyebrows. 

“Why do you assume something’s wrong?” Seungmin can only give him a disbelieving smile. “Okay yeah - angel, whatever.” He rolls his wrist. “You’re coming out with us? To the club - you know what those are, right? Music and dancing… hey - don’t look at me like that, I don’t know what was on your exam curriculum.” 

“I need to be physically near Minho at all times.”

Jisung sucks on his teeth and nods sagely. “Yeah, it can feel like that - he has that magnetism…” 

“What? No - because of this-” Seungmin taps the halo and hisses when the coolness stings his finger. Jisung’s mouth makes a little ‘o’ and he retracts his statement.

“Oh - right, yeah,” He stumbles away from the awkward conversation. “It’s going to be hard for you - hard for  _ any  _ angel. There’s a shit ton of people, emotions spiked by alcohol, millions of smells and colours flashing demanding your attention…” Jisung shivvers off a memory. “If you want to stay here you can, we’ll keep our eye on Minho. I don’t think you’ll get much enjoyment standing with your wings tucked away while sweaty humans try and grind on you.” 

“Grind?” Seungmin asks. Jisung pretends not to hear his question… he’ll have to ask Minho to explain the word later. “I won’t go places with Minho out of enjoyment, I do it because it’s my duty. Although I do enjoy the library and grocery shopping and the evening walks, I do them to keep Minho safe rather than for my own benefit. It’s what I’m on this Earth to do.” 

Jisung seems to ruminate a little on Seungmin’s response. When he looks back up at Seungmin, his eyes are swimming with emotion, “You’re a good angel.” 

“I’ve broken forty-seven rules of Heaven since being appointed Lee Minho.” 

Jisung only laughs. “All that matters is that you’re breaking the  _ right _ ones, Minnie. Now-” He claps. “If you’re dead set on partying with us, then you at least need to dress up a little.” 

“Should I put a coat on?” 

“No - I mean dress up like - dress in  _ less. _ ” 

Seungmin squints in confusion and lets Jisung drag him into ‘his’ bedroom to sift through his weak wardrobe and style him in whatever way he sees appropriate for the occasion.

Jisung was right: it was too much. The strobe lights had a horrible effect on people’s auras, lighting them up like lightning bugs in a foggy night sky, hundreds of them shining directly into Seungmin’s vision, rendering him mostly blind. The smells were even worse. He held on tight to whoever’s sleeve he had caught when stepping into the club.

The heavy bass made Seungmin’s gut twist and jump horribly, doing backflips and frontflips and somersaults until he had to take deep breaths to stop himself throwing up. Normally, angels read vibrations in the air for dangers - a subtle shift in the air to indicate an oncoming car, a stinging wasp, any part of the environment which isn’t as it should be will create a little vibration that angels can read and navigate around. Seungmin has no way to sense any danger, has no way to navigate the space around him when his sight is rendered useless, he is led blindly through the space in search for a place to sit. When someone falls into him, it’s a horrible shock - one that leaves his heart racing. He  _ knows _ he’s okay - his friends are here, pulling him up from the sticky floor and leading him by the hand, another hand on the small of his back, and guiding him into a seat. 

A glass slotted into his hand, only for it to be taken away again, muffled words that Seungmin can barely make out: “It won’t help… doesn’t need water.” Seungmin tastes the salt on his upper lip, feels the sweat tacking at his shirt uncomfortably, even more so he feels the movements of every single person in the building, shifting and swaying and dancing along with the bass. 

Seungmin lasted a total of twenty minutes before he sought out Minho’s ears, and with a quirk of his hidden feathers:  _ ‘Please find me somewhere quiet.’ _ And hardly a second later, a firm hand guides him carefully into a room, then a stall, then he is told he is free to go. 

“It’s just me and you here, are you alright?” The music is muffled a little, the horrible lights are gone, although the ghosts linger on his eyes. He can make Minho out here, a little smudged and out of focus, but he can see. The worry lines are thick on Minho’s face, and maybe if Seungmin wasn’t so off-kelter, he would have stopped himself from smoothing the lines out with his thumb. 

“I’m okay,” Seungmin says. 

“That’s a lie.” Well, maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. Seungmin isn’t really sure what being not-okay feels like - maybe this is how it feels to be not okay? “You look like you’re about to have a panic attack. What’s happening?” 

“It’s - the lights. And the music and everything,” Seungmin rubs his eyes to try and get the stars away. Minho gently takes him by the wrist and lowers his hands. 

“You’re rubbing too hard… Do you want to go? We can go, Minnie, you’re clearly not enjoying yourself.” Seungmin adamantly shakes his head. The motion makes him dizzy, he lowers himself onto the toilet lid, still holding loosely onto Minho’s arms. 

“No, don’t leave on account of me. I don’t want to leave… I need to make sure you’re safe.”

Minho lets out a shallow guffaw, “Not to be rude, angel, but do you really think you’re going to keep me safe in this condition?” Seungmin lets out a wounded noise. He feels his face being slowly pressed into the front of Minho’s torso. He loosely links his arms around the body. He breathes in the comforting scent. The familiar washing detergent, the familiar cologne, even wafts of metal from Minho’s cheap rings, currently petting his hair. 

“What type of angel am I?” Seungmin mutters into the clothes, feeling sorry for himself, but Minho is having none of it. Minho crouches down so they’re eye-to-eye and scolds him.

“Stop it. We’ll go home, I can’t have you walking around on the verge of blindness about to burst into tears all night, now can I?”

“No. Please, enjoy yourself. I’m not going to hold you back from normal human experiences due to my own inability to manage my condition. I’ll get out of my human form and I’ll wait outside.” This middleground didn’t seem to please Minho either. 

“Leave you alone while I party?” Seungmin nods. “I can’t do that.” 

“Why not?”

“Because I have fun when you’re here.” Minho says this as though it is obvious, a chore to even explain. “Knowing you’re waiting for me will only make me wish you were here.” 

Seungmin sighs. “Minho, I waited for you for  _ years _ before Chan brought me to you. I can wait a few hours.” 

Minho doesn’t look entirely convinced, but he doesn’t argue the logic any longer, and for that Seungmin is grateful because he can feel his energy depleting rapidly. The stress on his system really wore him down more than he expected. 

The door of the bathroom swings open and the muffled music swings in with them, until the door shuts it out again. The men who walked in talk in drunken garbles as they populate the urinals. Minho glares over his shoulder through the stall door, like he hopes his gaze will burn holes through them. 

With tremendous effort, Seungmin channels into angel radio to Minho.  _ ‘Leave the stall, and close the door behind you. I’ll leave then - it’s the safest option.’  _

Minho has words on his tongue, but he can’t say anything without alerting the strangers to the duo in the stall. It’s a risk for Seungmin, one with dire consequences, so he keeps his mouth shut and turns around, lifting the latch on the stall. In a surprising substitute for words, Minho spins around, and presses a firm kiss to the side of Seungmin’s mouth. He pulls away with a million words on his tongue, then leaves. 

Maybe if Seungmin was in a clearer headspace he would think about it more, but in his current state, it barely registers as odd, or exciting, instead it instills him with comfort that Minho is with his friends, who will care for him and look after him. And so, Seungmin leaves his human form and makes use of the time to stretch his wings on the roof of the building, spreading them far and wide as the moon watches down on him with something akin to humour. 

  
  


Seungmin doesn’t doze off in the same way Minho does occasionally when watching TV. Sometimes when they’re watching television after dinner, the energy drains from Minho and he ends up with his head lolling as he tries to fight unconsciousness, only to give up with a grunt and fall into the cushions. Seungmin does, however, find himself drifting off into his head. He listens around angel radio, listening to snippets of conversations which haven’t been effectively tuned out - but nothing is interesting enough to hold his attention.

He tries to tune into Minho, but obviously, for lack of halobond, it’s a lost cause. Now, alone with his thoughts, Seungmin catches the moon winking at him and he blushes under her gaze. She knows all too well what she’s doing. Now even looking at her dimples reminds Seungmin of the skin glowing under her light between the cracks of the face mask. It’s too much to bear. Minho’s beauty matches that of the moon - and it makes Seungmin’s stomach flutter to think about too long.

He knows he’s in dangerous territory, he  _ knows _ \- and until now he has made a sharp point of ignoring it, trying to convince himself that it happened once - that can be it. Because some humans kiss each other for fun, right? Minho, Changbin and Felix admitted it themselves, even egging Felix and Seungmin to take part in the ritual - surely Minho and Seungmin could do it too, right? 

Deep down Seungmin knows that no, no they can’t. 

Their relationship is too distinct of a colour to blend easily with the others. The ties of guardian and human are a powerful one, unmatched by any other - they simply cannot be compared to the logic of familial bonds. 

It’s a difficult truth to swallow, and Seungmin’s throat works overtime to do so. Because now, Seungmin has to face the fact that he has done something extraordinarily unbecoming of a guardian angel, the first stepping stone of a path which Minho has trekked before. The same path that left Minho with thorns in his skin and his soul battered into its roots. How can Seungmin knowingly do what had left Minho so badly damaged in the first place? How  _ selfish _ could he be?

O’Moon! Seungmin pleads for her wisdom, but she only continues to shine her benevolence over his face, mocking him. He pleads because his soul is twisting at the thought of it. He wants Minho - he wants to protect him and care for him and -  _ good god _ does he want to kiss him again. And again. And again. 

Minho wants him too - he knows this. He knows how Minho falls out of focus staring at the knobs of his spine, or when he stares at his lips or when his hands  _ always _ find a reason to touch him. He knows it how his soul jumped through Seungmin, ignoring its instincts to search for a halobond, and instead rummaging into the dirty bits of Seungmin’s soul, leaving kisses and stains of colour in its wake. If Seungmin thinks hard: he can feel Minho there. Not alive, or real, or anything matching a halobond, more like a fingerprint on a window, or the writings on a mirror misted from a hot shower. A temporary marking within him -  _ Minho was here. _ Seungmin wants to delve his hands inside himself and feel it, trace his fingers over the stains - but he can’t do that, because if he did he just might burst into tears. 

A sudden, intense desire overtakes him to be with Minho, a feeling so strong that Seungmin feels sinful for the enormity of his hunger, ashamed for the very un-holy feelings towards a creature he promised to protect. There is something deeply, deeply wrong with him for feeling the way he does, and should he curl into a fetal position and let his empty halo swallow him whole? - that isn’t for him to decide. Not yet. 

Because now, he realises the moon is rising high in the sky, no longer watching him with a humourful gaze, now casting light directly above him, spotlighting his shame for the heavens to see. Seungmin has been ruminating for hours. Hours upon hours he has been examining each little thread of his relationship with his Human, desperately looking for some sort of answer - and as is typical luck of an Angel: he comes away with less answers and more sorrow. 

A strong breeze away from a breakdown, he tries to judge the time. Given the position of the moon, and the increased bite of the wind, he gathers it to be around 2am. Late by normal means, but for Minho, clubbing for the first time since college? It’s long overdue when Seungmin expected the friends to wrap it up. He knows none of them are particularly early sleepers, even Minho has spent the odd sleepless night until the moon bids her farewell and makes place for the sun to spill her light over the skyline in anticipation for her daylight. But this isn’t a typical night in pajamas and late-night snacks, this is an exhausting social gathering which Suengmin  _ knows _ Minho would have been exhausted with by now.

So either Minho has gone home, wondering why his angel has abandoned him, or they’re still in the club, long overdue the social energy timer’s deadline to return home. 

Neither are good - and Seungmin, as a guardian angel - should have prevented either of these two things from happening. He could tear his own hair out, he really could. 

He can’t locate Minho. If he had a halobond, he would simply tune in and know where he is, how he’s feeling, what he’s thinking - all of these. He could keep him safe and sound no matter where on heaven or earth he is - but instead, he’s what? Trying not to picture every single terrible, horrible thing that could have happened to his human in his negligence - to  _ Minho _ in his negligence. 

Knowing that he won’t be able to find Minho in the mess of humans in the club, he bites the bullet and asks for help.

_ ‘Chan, I need your assistance.’ _

The response is immediate:  _ ‘Of course, that’s what I’m here for. What is it?’ _

_ ‘Can you give me an exact 3x3 location marker for Lee Minho?’  _

The silence is short, but poignant. It makes Seungmins feel sick. 

_ ‘You don’t know where he is? Do you need backup? Jeongin is here if-’ _

_ ‘Chan, please. Just the location marker.’ _

_ ‘Location marked at 3x3: maze.flamed.stardom.’ _

_ ‘Thank you.’ _

Seingmin doesn’t even wait to hear Chan’s response before he’s going there. It’s in the club, so he keeps his form hidden, flying above the mess of lights and bass and drunken dancing. Even though he isn’t at the location yet, he scans his eye as best as he is able along the crowd, hoping to catch one of the others - but his eyes are blinded by the messy splashes of colour that he can hardly see the forms they belong to - and even though it would normally be  _ easier _ to identify humans by their souls alone - the bass and the overwhelming load of information is rendering Seungmin useless. 

He could cry with glee when he notes the location is leading him to the bathroom - the same one he had been in some hours ago. When he passes through the wall, the sound of retching in an otherwise silent room is a gross juxtaposition to the horrendous music that had been assaulting Seungmin’s ears only moments ago. He knew it to be Minho - even by the sound of retching. 

Desperately, he falls into his human form, feet heavy as he drives toward the only occupied stall in the bathroom. With a brief frame of mind for Minho’s pride, he jams the bathroom door, temporarily sealing it to the wall. 

He opens the door to a frazzled Jisung, moping Minho’s dewy brow with a damp square of paper towel. Minho’s eyes don’t lift from their glassy focus on the toilet bowl. Jisung shifts himself defensively in front of Minho at the creaking of the hinges, only to fall back in relief when he realises who it is. 

Jisung has no right to look so relieved to see Seungmin. If anything, Minho’s tear-tracked cheeks and white-knuckled grip on the toilet bowl is a direct result of Seungmin’s incompetence - his own selfish reflection on his desires overridden his duty of care. If Seungmin had any sense, he would turn around and hang his halo in shame, but he can’t. No matter how much he may have messed up, he promised Minho he would always be here - he failed once, how could he repeat it? 

“Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear. Beer before liquor, never sicker,” Jisung laughs, looking much more relaxed than Seungmin could imagine as appropriate. Jisung holds Minho’s hair back as his diaphragm forces him to heave empty into the bowl. “There there, I’ve got you. You’re almost done, okay? Then we’ll take you home and get you into bed - doesn’t that sound nice?” 

Through his tears, Minho nods - and it’s enough to make Seungmin’s mouth pull into an ugly shape and his tears to threaten over his lower lashes. The wet, choking noise he makes catches both him and Jisung by surprise. Jisung, holding Minho’s hair with one hand now, takes the other to reach out to Seungmin but he can’t -  _ he can’t. _ How could he accept an offer of kindness when the entire scene is of his own making? 

In a sickening role reversal, Seungmin and Minho are crying, and Jisung is playing Guardian Angel. He flushes the toilet when Minho’s done and gets him to sit on the lowered lid, wiping at his mouth with the square of tissue and telling him he’s doing good, it’s almost time to go home, we’ll be  _ home _ soon. All the while, Jisung is checking on Seungmin, purposeful glances over his shoulder. 

Seungmin feels like he might just follow Minho’s performance and heave himself over the toilet bowl. Delicately, Jisung hands Minho a bottle of water, giving him the insurmountable task of drinking it all as he steps out of the stall and closes the door behind him. Minho is too out of it to even notice Seungmin’s presence at all, and will likely be too focused on hydrating his body while trying to navigate the ravenging plight of his uneasy stomach to listen to whatever conversation is happening. 

He’s barely lucid. Seungmin can’t get the glassy, drowsy eyes out of his head. His black silk shirt sticking to his damp chest. His hair curling slightly at the corners of his temple from the dew that lies there. All of it: preventable.

A cold dampness is pressed to his forehead, slipping under his bangs. Jisung shushes him when he shocks backward, spine painfully connecting with the row of sinks. “Hey, it’s only me. You’re clammy, so I’m cooling you off a little.” Jisung explains. His face is a painting of calm, but Seungmin can read the worry behind his eyes, and he only tumbles further into guilt. “Hey, there’s no need for tears.” Jisung says kindly, offering Seungmin the square of tissue paper to wipe his eyes with. He does so, but mainly to have something to hide behind.

“What’s wrong?” Seungmin’s stare over Jisung’s shoulder - the stall - answers the question. “Seungmin, he’s fine. I promise. He just had a little too much to drink, that’s all.” 

“He- he looks terrible. He needs to go to the hospital, people aren’t meant to vomit unless their body is ill, and he’s delirious and he looks like his fever is-” 

“Minnie.” Jisung’s voice is kind but firm. “He’s had too much alcohol. He mixed his drinks and his stomach isn’t happy about it, so it’s trying to get it all out. I promise you he’s fine. I shouldn’t have let him drink so much, his alcohol tolerance used to be a lot better - but obviously he hasn’t drank like this in a long time.” The guilt on Jisung’s face is unfair. It isn’t up to him to look after Minho, not anymore. Being put back in that position must be difficult, heart-wrenching, and it’s Seungmin who put him there. 

“Anything could have happened to him-” Seungmin’s lungs stagger for breath, “I lost track of time, and he was alone - I should have been here-” 

“Take deep breaths for me, okay?” 

“I-I put him in this position, I  _ left _ him and look what happened. I promised I would never leave him and I did and now he’s sick -”

“C’mon Seungmin, you need to work with me here-”

“I should never have been appointed as his angel, I am no good for him. Oh, Jisung - I am corrupting him, I’m corrupting  _ myself _ and willingly using Minho as the catalyst. He doesn’t deserve to be used as an object of destruction, it only brings pain, and he’s paid his fair dues of that.” If Jisung is hurt by the words, he doesn’t show it. Jisung has calculations forming in his head, until something clicks, his expression morphing into something a little more empathetic, another thing Seungmin doesn’t deserve. 

“Seungmin… do you like Minho?” Jisung asks. 

“Of course I like Minho,” Seungmin replies, borderline hysterical at the stupidity of the question. 

“Well, okay.” Jisung sucks on his lip in contemplation, but decides to push, push Seungmin right over the edge of the tightrope he had been so careful to walk across. “Seungmin… are you in love with Minho?” 

Seungmin desperately wants to say yes, wants to grab Jisung by the shoulders and say  _ ‘Of course I’m in love with Minho. He deserves every ounce of love that any creature between the oceans and the heavens can give!’ _ But it wouldn’t be fair. Love doesn’t hurt people like this: love doesn’t leave people alone, love isn’t Seungmin neglecting Minho, love isn’t Seungmin barely holding himself together like a teenager in the midst of a hormone-fueled breakdown while Minho is in a dingy bathroom stall trying to hydrate his body into lucidity. 

“I can’t be in love with Minho,” He manages.

“That isn’t what I asked,” Jisung says softly, like approaching a stray kitten, scared it will scamper but desperate to get close to it, to help it heal. 

“I’ll hurt him. I’m hurting him all over again.”  _ Just like you did _ \- unsaid, but obvious inbetween the lines. Jisung’s behaviour suddenly flips, his face pulling into a scowl and his hands threaded in Seungmin’s shirt, shaking him like he wants to liquify whatever is between his ears. 

“No, not a fucking chance. You do not get to compare yourself to me, Kim Seungmin,” He growls, truly dangerous: all teeth and all bark.

“It’s true - can’t you see? I am being filled with sin, Jisung, I am leading myself into sin and I am putting the burden on Minho’s name. I’m putting it all on him. He doesn’t deserve it, not again. I promised to keep him safe and free of harm but how am I meant to do that when  _ I _ am the one leading him on another long trek to pain?” Seungmin cries when Jisung winds his fist tighter in his shirt and pushes him into the sink - the porcelain digging painfully in his spine. 

“You are nothing like me. I’m not that person anymore - you know it as well as me. How could you assume Minho is the same? You think he has no say in this? Don’t you think this is the sort of thing you should be talking to  _ him _ about, considering it’s his life you’re convinced you’re gonna ruin? You care about him in a more meaningful way than I ever did. You’ve saved his life in more ways than you’ll ever realise. So don’t you  _ dare-”  _ Jisung’s breath wafts over his face, and he can smell a sharp hint of spirits, “Put yourself so low.”

Seungmin lets his forehead press against Jisung’s. Jisung presses his spare hand into the base of Seungmin’s skull. 

“I’m taking advantage of him.” 

Jisung’s following words make Seungmin’s blood freeze. “He gets horny when he’s drunk. Are you gonna fuck him? He gets desperate, practically begging for it. Will you give him what he’ll be on his hands and knees pleading for?” Seungmin pushes Jisung away, aghast at the filth coming from his friend’s mouth.

“No! What type of plucking question is that?” 

Jisung swallows hard, trying to keep his bristled appearance, but his shoes scuff the ground, his hands find his pockets. “I did.” Seungmin’s breath freezes. “We’d talked about it before, but never had the balls to go through with it. Then he was there, tipsy and begging for me - I was his Angel, there to serve him, so how could I say no to something he wanted so bad?” 

Seungmin can only stare, horrified. “That’s…”   
“I couldn’t say no to Minho, even if I wanted to. I tried, but he was insistent. I took advantage of his inebriation just as much as he took advantage of my inability to deny him anything. Can you deny him, Seungmin?” 

Seungmin swallows his tongue. “I don’t serve Minho.” Is all he can manage, but it’s enough. It’s a big enough difference, a  _ gulf _ of a difference. Jisung pulls his coat from inside the pockets, any hint of earlier parental nature long gone. He looks oddly… human. He  _ is _ human, now, of course - but there will always be imprints of heavenly nature, whether it be posture or composure. Here, Jisung looks as much of a lost, wayward human as any other Seungmin had seen. This feels like a good thing. Like the breath of a beginning. 

“We’re not the same people anymore. Minho is more himself than I’ve ever known him to be - and so am I.” Jisung meets his eyes, sparkling. “He knows the consequences, he isn’t clueless or delicate - and he won’t say it - but he’s  _ terrified. _ Of course he is. He’s lost one angel, and no matter what promises you’ve made - who’s to say he won’t lose you, too. Like some sort of curse is placed on his head that any angel he gets close to is doomed to crash and burn.” Seungmin’s halo weighs heavy on his head. “You’ve said you won’t fall, right? That’s all well and good - but what else is there? Being relocated, demoted, losing your halo, being shunned by other angels? Do you think that doesn’t worry him, too?” 

Seungmin, in all of his self-centered panic, had never once considered that maybe Minho was worried too. Visions of Minho’s early pleading, denying Seungmin of a soulbond, terrified that he was going to be ripped of his wings. Panic in his eyes at the mention of Bang Chan, pushing Seungmin out of his kitchen to try and  _ save  _ him. 

The realisation that Minho too, cares immensely for Seungmin’s wellbeing, even to the point of self-sacrifice makes Seungmin’s eyes fill up again. He isn’t sad - or nervous - or anything. He’s just so completely overwhelmed that his eyes have to take some of the feelings away or else he’ll explode. Seungmin has nothing else to say, but words are only 10% of communication, and with the remaining 90%, Seungmin steps towards Jisung, holds his face in his hand, and presses their foreheads together once again. It’s an oddly intimate moment, one of which Jisung takes eagerly. There is something to be said about an angel and a fallen angel, bonding over the shared concern over a human of their protection. When they pull away, Jisung gives Seungmin a pat on the cheek.

“If you hurt him, I’ll pluck you like a chicken,” He smiles.

The tonal shift makes Seungmin laugh, mostly from relief. “You and five others,” He says fondly. Seungmin trusts Jisung. Jisung will keep Minho safe.

“How are you getting Minho home?” He asks. 

“I booked a taxi. It should be here in-” He checks his phone. “Five minutes.” 

“I have something to do, it won’t take long-” Jisung holds his hand up. 

“Do what you need to do. I’ll meet you back at basecamp.” Jising shoots him an OK-sign with his hand, and disappears to check on Minho’s progress with the water bottle. 

=====================

Seungmin finds Chan on a grassy mound, somewhere in the East side of America, basking in the heavy sun while keeping his trained eye on a kids’ baseball game. Their little helmets bob joyously with every sprint to base, far too big for their heads. One little boy runs with his hands firm on his helmet lest it fall over his eyes. 

It’s a languid type of day, the weather neither too warm nor too cold. The children’s screams and encouragements are carried only by the smallest of breezes. Nearby, a group of parents are managing a barbeque to feed the army of hungry tykes. There is something fond about a group of humans banding together to feed their young. 

“Is there a divine intervention here?” Seungmin sits beside Chan, lifting his knees under his chin. Chan is splayed out, elbows holding his upper body from the ground enough for his wings to flatten the heather. Chan doesn’t make any indication that Seungmin’s presence surprises him - as if he’d been there all along.

“A parent almost gave their child a snack with peanuts in it. He would’ve needed surgery to open his airway and the family is uninsured. I switched the snack out.”

“Uninsured?” 

“Healthcare politics,” He waves his hand. “If Minho ever decides to visit America, you’ll have to look into it, but it’s of no concern to you now.” It’s strange how one species has so many differences in their societies - Seungmin would never be able to fully grasp all these nuances like Chan does. 

“Who’s winning?” He asks. The group of kids in the red jerseys cheer loudly after a hearty smack of the baseball.

“Why are you here?” Chan doesn’t engage in the small talk like he normally would. Seungmin sees the crease under his eyes, the little yellow spots in his aura that tells him Seungmin’s earlier call had worried him. 

Seungmin plays with the button of his shirt. It’s one of his own - a plain white thing, muting the busy plaid pattern of his trousers. If Chan has anything to say about the outfit - or the small doting of makeup on his eyes, he says nothing, eyes not moving from the game. 

“I need to talk to you about Lee Minho.” 

“Is he okay?” Chan tries to sound casual, but Seungmin knows him better than that. 

“I - he’s fine. You were worried about him?” Chan looks at Seungmin as if he just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

“Of course I was worried about him.”

“He isn’t under your jurisdiction.” Seungmin tilts his head in confusion. Chan notes this with fondness.

“I may have developed a soft spot for him and his friends. I give them more attention in my duties of care than I should, but if the archangels ask I said nothing.” Chan sighs wistfully, then turns his attention back to Seungmin. “So, what is it you needed to discuss?” 

Seungmin straightens his posture, not to take the conversation lightly. Chan, with wary eyes, follows his actions. “You kept a lot of information about Lee Minho hidden from me. Given the difficult situation of me being assigned so late in his life, any information about him should have been given to me to ensure adequate guardianship. Instead: you kept information about his past angel hidden, you knowingly and willingly obstructed the truth and possibly put Minho at risk of emotional distress as a result - I’m not finished speaking.” Chan shuts his mouth. Any other general guardian would not be spoken to by his inferiors like this, as a blatant sign of disrespect. Chan, however, bites down on a fond look and nods for Seungmin to continue. “I would never assume you are sabotaging me, nor would I ever believe you are doing this for any other reason than our best interest. I trust your intuition blindly and faithfully, as all of us should. If you’re withholding information, I can only give the benefit of the doubt that it is for the greater good.” Seungmin says, with nowhere else to go.

“What are you asking me?” Chan’s eyes are glittering, reflecting the gold belt of his fine silks, as pale in colour as his skin. 

“Is there a greater plan for Minho, outside of my scope of abilities?” Seungmin asks. Chan nods, a soft smile on his face, something he’s been waiting for finally growing to fruition. 

“Is it-” Seungmin takes a breath. He suddenly feels shy, exposed beyond what he would typically allow himself to be around Chan. “Is it relevant to my life also?” Just then, Seungmin feels the sudden warmth on his back as the sun splits the clouds, casting her benevolence on his back. From Chan’s perspective, Seungmin is haloed in the gilded spotlight, skin bleeding warmth, wings glowing fiery orange at their tips where the feathers thin, halo absorbing the light greedily and shining as bright as the sun. 

Chan, face-to-face with the Angel approved by the Sun Herself, can only bite down on his appraisals, and smiles. “It is.” 

“I’m part of something bigger than myself, aren’t I?” Seungmin’s face is shrouded in darkness from the illumination behind him, but his words ring out clear as day. 

“Seungmin, I think you’re part of something bigger than the  _ Heavens _ ,” Chan says, looking up at the figure towering over him. Human clothes, and pure white wings dipped in the Sun’s rays: Chan knows that things are blossoming, and they will do so in their own time and out of anyone’s control. “Have more faith in yourself, I think your intuition will lead you exactly onto the path you need to go on. Don’t mind if it is a path dispurged or hounded by others: for it is  _ yours _ , and from it you will find your home.” 

Seungmin isn’t entirely sure the exact meanings of Chan’s words - but he doesn’t need them. It feels like permission, assurance that Seungmin is entirely within his purpose. Maybe it isn’t the purpose of the Heavens - maybe Seungmin is breaking every angel code and heavenly law that has ever been written by the hands of the archangels, but maybe there is something more. Maybe there is something worth following which is more important than the Heavens. Seungmin doesn’t know what it means when he feels the fingerprints of Minho’s soul in his insides but he doesn’t need to have the answer for everything. 

Some things are written in clouded letters and uncertain terms so as to not overwhelm us. If we had all the knowledge of our present written easily for us to read, it would reduce most to a tearful overwhelming rush of information. Sometimes, it is enough to say  _ ‘I’m not sure what this means, but I will find out, and until then I will keep doing it, and trust that my future self will make the right decision once granted the information my present self is lacking.’ _

===================

The apartment is dark. A heaviness has settled here, the air is thick with it. Seungmin creeps quietly down the hallway towards the sliver of light cutting through the bottom of Minho’s bedroom door. The door pushes open easily, welcoming Seungmin in to the room filled with the smell of salt, liquor and the unmistakeable smell of a coagulation of emotions which Seungmin will dumb down as  _ upset. _

His appearance is immediately noticed by Jisung. The sight of the two is so far beyond what Seungmin had expected that he has to blink to clear the light from his eyes just to clarify his vision. Jisung is cradling Minho under the blankets of his bed, petting his bicep gently from the side closest to the wall. Minho is pushed into the crook of his neck, arm wound desperately right around Jisung’s waist as the ex-angel speaks soft words in an attempt to lull him to sleep. 

Seungmin, although not out of jealousy, wishes it was  _ him _ in Jisung’s spot. 

Jisung taps Minho lightly. “He’s home, Minho, okay? I told you that he’d come home.” Minho makes puffy noises from his place on Jisung’s side, and with great effort tries to lift himself from his position. “Look, he’s right here.” Jisung helps Minho turn over. Seungmin blinks and suddenly he is beside the bed, not remembering his feet carrying him there. 

Minho reaches for him like he’d been at war for years, desperate and with misplaced grief. Minho isn’t typically the most generous when it comes to acts of skinship, so to suddenly find himself with an armful of Minho, he is at a loss for what to do. Jisung is little help, tapping away at his phone sending a quick update to his boyfriend, who he had abandoned in order to tuck his ex-lover into bed. The relationships between humans really are idiosyncratic from each other. 

“I thought you were gone - you’d been taken away…” Minho mumbles into Seungmin’s collar. The hands fisting the back of his shirt grip tighter, like Seungmin would be tugged away from under his very hands. 

Seungmin, a little hesitant, wraps his arms loosely around the body and shifts him into a slightly more comfortable position. “I’m here, I told you I wouldn’t leave.”

“You’re an asshole,” Minho sniffles into his shirt. 

Seungmin holds him while Minho settles himself, still drunk but much more lucid than he had been the last time Seungmin had seen him. Makeup removed (albeit, a little carelessly at the corners of the eyes), stripped down to his underwear, skin dabbed clean of sweat and jewellery removed, Seungmin has to call on all of his self restraint not to fall into Jisung’s arms and sing praises of gratitude. 

Jisung, for all his patience, pockets his phone and maneuvers himself on all fours off of the bed. He collects his coat from where it had been abandoned on the floor, pulling it on with the type of slow ease adults do when they don’t really want to leave.

“I have to head home,” He explains, “From one drunk boyfriend to the next,” He laughs honestly. His departure is quick and efficient, and he bids Seungmin good luck. Seungmin is a little sad to watch the figure leave, his presence always a welcome one, but Felix needs his person just as much as Minho needs his angel. 

With great reluctance, Seungmin leans over and lets gravity pull Minho back into bed. He smooths the covers over Minho’s chest, flattening all the wrinkles. The heaviness of Minho’s gaze is too much for him to take right now, so he refills the glass of water by Minho’s bed, which will likely go untouched. He feels the nervous energy ping-ponging around the walls of the room, radiating from Minho, although his body lies still and heavy, eyes drowsy. 

Seungmin isn’t sure what to do in these situations. He has heard that looking after a drunk human is similar to looking after a toddler: neither of which Seungmin has had the pleasure of experiencing. He knows that sometimes Hyunjin flicks the tv channel for his human to daytime cartoons when she is upset, but somehow Seungmin doesn’t think Strawberry Shortcake will be much assistance to him here.

His instincts tell him to slip his hand into the open palm slowly nudging his way, so he does. Long fingers entwining easily with Minho’s delicate ones. Minho sighs, as one does getting into a hot bath. A thumb rubs the skin of his hand gently, carding as much of Seungmin’s touch into his memory bank as possible. In the silence, Minho’s harsh whisper calls easily.

“Sleep with me?” 

Seungmin freezes, heart simultaneously freezing to a halt and speeding up to flush as much blood to the surface of his cheeks as possible. Jisung had warned him, but it was words, none of the imagery gracing Seungmin’s mind. Now, with Minho pulling up the cover, revealing toned thighs and careless hipbones, a delicate promise of hair just above the low waistband of his underwear, Seungmin’s mind goes into overdrive. 

He fights the covers back down. “No.” Is all he can manage. It’s weak and unconvincing, and Minho only carries on.

“Please, sleep with me. I need you, angel.” Minho presses again, Seungmin sees a surprising amount of lucidity beneath heavy lids - the implications of such make him turn even redder. 

“Minho - enough.” He says sharply. “I’m not going to … have intercourse with you.” 

Minho stills his complaints, confused then lips drawing into a lazy dangerous smirk. “Your mind went to sex? I meant to sleep beside me, Seungmin.”  _ Oh.  _ “Does my angel have lust on his mind? No - don’t be shy, it’s a compliment that you think about it. I think about it too, you know.” Minho’s smirk is the devil’s. A hand squeezes his thigh. “I think about it a  _ lot. _ ” Against Seungmin’s expectations, Minho doesn’t increase his skinship by any more, but his mouth rallies onwards, going to a place so obscene that Seungmin covers his ears. “Sometimes I just think about you on top of me, just making out. For  _ hours _ . Now that I know how you taste, I can’t stop thinking about it. Bracketing me with your wings, manhandling me whatever way you want and then you do something so  _ sexy _ , Seungmin. You bring your hands up, while sucking on my tongue, and form a bond there and then. I feel everything tenfold - you force me to feel your pleasure when I suck my name into bruises on your pretty collarbones-” 

Seungmin slaps Minho’s hand away. “Just do it - please. I want to be a part of you, Seungmin. Please.” He begs. “Bond me.”

The temptation is more delicious than anything Seungmin has ever heard before. It’s calling for his innate instinct as an angel to call upon the most basic acts of Guardianship, one which has been denied of him for so long. The lack of bond has given him unspeakable pain and difficulties - only proven by the events of the night. It would cement Seungmin’s role of guardianship if he did it. Humans don’t even need to consent to the bond, never mind  _ ask _ for it - and here his Human is: begging him to do something which should have rightfully been done long ago. 

“No,” He says easily, despite Minho’s nipping at his feet like an undisciplined lap dog. “You’re drunk and are in no position to be making decisions like this.” 

“Just lie with me then.” Minho scoots over, the space looks like the most inviting thing on the planet. Seungmin would like nothing more than to pull the uncomfortable clothes off his body and crawl beside Minho, skin-to-skin. He would trace the outline of muscles, lay his palm flat against the field of skin on his back, exploring the valleys between his shoulderblades where no wings lie. He would hold all the tender places, keep them safe from the world. He would kiss the backs of his knees if he could. 

“I’m worried you’ll do something you’ll regret-”

“There’s nothing I would regret doing with you.” 

Seungmin pauses and lets Minho sit up further, wrapping himself around his arm and squishing his face into the full of his shoulder. He says no more - but Seungmin doesn’t want to break the silence. He contemplates this,  _ hard. _

He can’t make decisions for Minho - he is his own person, fully able to make his own decisions, as Jisung had said. So, he doesn’t speak down or invalidate Minho’s wants - even if they are fueled by a deadly concoction of alcohol. 

“I’ll be next door. I’ll be right there and I’ll be listening to make sure you’re safe, okay? I’m always close.” 

“Not tonight. I was thoughtless and you had to leave… and- and-” Minho rubs his nose into Seungmin’s sleeve. He winces but lets him continue. “And I missed you so much I thought I was going to die.” 

Seungmin smells the pain in his voice before he identifies the crack in his voice. Minho’s hair smells vaguely like his familiar banana shampoo, if Seungmin concentrates. He buries his face in Minho’s hair, taking the added weight of Minho relaxing into him.

“I thought you were felled…” Minho says softly. His voice has a heavy note of sobriety to it and although Seungmin can’t see his face, he can imagine the darkness of his eyes beneath heavy lashes. “I thought I would never see you again. Last time it - it hurt. It hurt so much, you have no idea. It felt like someone took my entire Universe and shredded it into pieces. You helped me put it back together, I wish I could take the credit but I can’t. If you left… my life would still be the same. It wouldn’t crumble, you built my life back strong enough to withstand devastation.” Minho pulls away, pain written over his face. “But  _ you _ wouldn’t be there. I don’t care that I would be alone: it isn’t that. I care that I wouldn’t be with you.” 

Seungmin understands. 

He feels it too - the ache, the desire to be close, but as two individuals rather than two halves of a whole. 

“I’ll always do what’s best for you.” It’s the truth, although it doesn’t have the comforting effect that he expects.

“Even if that means leaving?” Minho asks mournfully, like it’s an eventuality - like he’s a black spot destined to pull angels to their demise and be all the worse for wear. The self-appointed destiny of malignancy makes Seungmin want to grab Minho by the ears to shake him and unearth any other false prophecies that wriggled and laid eggs there. Although, if he did that Minho would likely puke all over his carpet. 

“I can’t think of any issue that would be resolved by us being separated that couldn’t be dealt with in a better way. I don’t think we would let any issue grow that big.” Seungmin whispers into his hair. 

Minho doesn’t reply for a long time. The digital clock on his bedside table ticks on. The moon is peaking through the slits of the blinds, listening in with eager ears that Seungmin can’t help but feel fond of. For a brief moment, Seungmin thinks that Minho had fallen asleep on his shoulder, until his voice cuts through the silence with a definite: “I like you.” Then, the weight on his shoulder is gone, and Minho is turning away from him, face already lax with the premise of drifting off. 

Seungmin can’t help the fond smile that finds his way on his face as he watches Minho shuffle to get comfortable, scrunching his nose, flicking his hair away from tickling his ear, scissoring his legs to fix the covers: it touches Seungmin in a deep, deep place of his heart which aches with use. 

“This is going to be a conversation in the morning, isn’t it?” Minho grumbles into his pillow. Seungmin can’t help but titter. 

“Yes, I think it will be.” 

Seungmin stays with him until his breathing slows into the signs of slumber. The moon beckons him to visit, but Seungmin has no time for her call right now because he is too busy committing the rise and fall of Minho’s chest to heart. The fawning of a stray part of hair with every breath. The occasional unconscious murmur. 

Sorry, Moon - tonight there is something shining brighter in the darkness, and Seungmin will bask in His light as long as he can, until the Sun comes up and the comforting secrecy of darkness is lifted. 

Deep down, Seungmin doesn’t think the moon minds too much of his affair. If anything, She keens for more of it.

_ O’Angel.  _

_ The bee may drown in its honey _ _   
_ _ But who is to say _ _   
_ _ That the honey is not what gives it life? _ _   
_ _ That drowning is to indulge in the throws of life itself. _ _   
_ _ Does it need saving?  _ _   
_ _ Or does the poor creature that assumes its demise _ _   
_ __ require more prayer than the bee?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, to grab these two and force them to talk things out like actual adults. GAH! 
> 
> I hope this chapter was ok! Sorry it's so long - I tried to divide it up but the flow didn't work :(
> 
> I hope to talk to you in the comments ~~ I missed you all T T <3
> 
> [[And please check out my Seungsung fic if you want!! I'm super excited to post more!]]


	13. 13. Bang Chan's Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super short (BUT IMPORTANT) one! Please see End Notes for more details!!

Chan is a busy angel: this is a known fact amongst the heavens. 

And sure, the archangels above him had pushed for him to get an assistant but he had always turned the offer down. He didn’t want to pressure another angel with the sheer volume of his workload. Until Jeongin came along. 

Jeongin had played some roles in the Heavens, bouncing from department to department, until one of the department leaders came to him, desperate, and asked Chan what they should do with this particular fledgling. He hadn’t settled anywhere, growing bored and playing around rather than taking his role seriously. Chan monitored him for a few years, and it came as no surprise that the other managerial angels had got it all wrong - well, they’re all stuck up their own feathers anyway. 

Jeongin wasn’t reluctant to work, or stupid by  _ any _ means. He was bored. He was understimulated. Chan knew from the moment he saw the fledgling grinning at him with a wide smile and a glint in his eyes that he wanted all or nothing. 

So Chan gave him it all. 

Jeongin ate responsibility easily, not once letting his fears or frustrations prevent him from moving forward with eagerness ruffling his feathers. Even now, hardly growing into the weight of his wings, Jeongin had shooed Chan away from the daycare in Indonesia, telling him to take some minutes to rest while all the incidents currently needing attending to were only minor. Jeongin successfully willed the child  _ not _ to stick her crayon up her nose. 

Chan had a lot of places he liked to go whenever the opportunity arose: the white sand of the Australian dunes, the rolling hills of the Scottish highlands, the warm clay of Ghanian ports: the Earth was truly a place of wonder, full of colours and sights so beautiful that they would reduce anyone with half a mind to tears. 

So  _ why _ exactly is Chan spending the rare sliver of free time hiding in foliage on a miserably grey day? Well, that might take a little explaining. And really, it isn’t entirely his decision, either. If the clouds hadn’t selfishly blocked the Sun’s vision, then he would be free to do as he pleases, but who is he to ignore a polite request from the Sun, especially when She asked so nicely? 

The truth is that  _ maybe _ Chan is using the Sun’s request as a scapegoat, because his feathers twitched with excitement whenever he spotted the unmistakable gentle presence of Seungmin’s aura. Minho’s had gotten much stronger, albeit still a little bruised at the corners, its purple a striking companion next to the silver-gold glitters of Seungmin’s. 

They’re sharing an umbrella under the rainfall, although he can see how Seungmin steps out from the cover every now and again to feel the rain on his face. Chan can’t help the smile that crosses his face when Seungmin bolts from the umbrella to jump into a puddle. It’s difficult to angle his hearing this far, but he can pick up on Minho.  _ “Seungmin! Look - you’ve got your sneakers all dirty. I’m not gonna buy you new ones if you ruin them, you can run around in your socks for all I care.”  _

Seungmin’s aura chirps in response, and Seungmin’s laugh matches its beat. Chan has to reel himself in before he gets too wrapped up in it all. 

As they walk closer (and Chan retreats a little more into the foliage - although he is in his angel form, Seungmin could very easily spot him) Chan can see the relationship string between the two. He can’t quite define its nature - he’s too far away, and things like these are personal, especially when one of the parties is an angel. He does however notice that more threads have grown since even yesterday, the bond getting thicker - but they are pulled taught. There is a tension that needs to be relieved there. 

The pair pass the tree Chan is hiding in, en route to a cafe. Chan sees that Minho is a little worse for wear. His steps are sluggish and eyes heavy. He imagines that beneath his mask, his skin is pale from the remnants of the alcohol. As they walk away, Chan notes Seungmin’s phased wing wrapping protectively around Minho. Beneath the huge insulating coats, Chan can peek at Minho’s hand holding securely onto Seungmin’s sleeve, only a breath away from his hand. 

Chan feels the planets slowly aligning, the time is coming close. The Heavens have made many attempts to thwart the colliding of these two worlds, out of what: fear, change, tradition? But the reasons were not good enough to stop such a momentous shifting of the Universe to take place.

The Heavens have tried before, and didn’t that blow up in their faces? The Sun and Moon would be crippled in laughter if they were listening. Denial of an inevitability only makes it stronger, will only make it come back twice as strong and twice as determined. 

Chan’s role in this entire plight may be treasonous to the Heavens, but he himself was chosen to fight this battle the second Seungmin was born under his district, he just didn’t know it. Chan may serve the Heavens, but more than that: he serves his Angels, he serves the Greater Good - he serves the entire Universe as a catalyst for whatever needs to be done to maintain balance. 

The injustice to the Sun and Moon must be righted. Order must be maintained, it is written in the laws of the Universe - who  _ cries _ for the change to come, who  _ weeps _ for what had been robbed from it to be instated, no matter what the Heaven’s Law might say. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short one, but it didn't fit as part of a chapter, so I decided to take this super quick time to ask you all a question, which I need the answer for before the next chapter in order to make it work smoothly. It still is important.... I wonder what Chan is up to hehe
> 
> I have the fic planned out (for the most part) in its entirety now, and there is a perfect place to slip in smut - which can be perfectly done with or without the inclusion of the scene. Since this fic hasn't had any explicit scenes before (except for the flashbacks), I'm not sure if everyone would be on board, so I have 3 options:  
> 1\. No, do it without the smut.  
> 2\. Include the smut.  
> 3\. Include the smut, but as an epilogue/seperate fic as part of this series (post Fic ending).   
> Here is the link to a google Form if you don't want to publically comment your opinion!: https://forms.gle/cUctFkAgySrimcGE9


	14. 14. How to Cure a Hangover

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I didn't make you all wait too long ~

Minho grunts his thanks when Seungmin delivers his coffee to him. Seungmin, all too aware at how hard Minho is fighting the unrelenting hangover, had walked Minho to one of the windowed booths and all but forced him to sit while he took the task of ordering the coffee.

Seungmin tucks himself opposite, shuffling himself close to the window. The cold from the miserable fall day seeps through the glass and numbs the bones of his arm where he presses himself up beside it. The rain makes a wonderful painting on the glass, distorting the orange-green foliage from the parkway and the lights of the traffic into little capsules of distorted colour. Like thousands of parallel universes tucked inside each drop. The sound is relaxing, too, especially accompanying the gentle clatter of humans seeking refuge from the wet day, shaking off umbrellas in the doorway, cupping steaming mugs of coffee, buying toddlers in rain-proofed prams little pastries to apologise for bringing them out in such weather. 

Minho eyes Seungmin’s matching cup, opaque and not at all his usual cold frappe-esque drink. “What did you order?” 

Seungmin closes one eye and peers into the lip of the cup. “I ordered the same as you,” He says. It was a slip of the tongue when he responded ‘yes’ to the barista’s simple ‘You want two of those?’ which he hadn’t been invested enough to really pay attention to, and he would not announce his mistake after the worker had already made his drink. 

Minho pulls his mask under his chin and lifts the lid of his drink curiously, sniffing it with an increasingly perplexed expression. “What is it?” 

“I asked for something to cure a hangover.”

Minho takes a cautious drink of the steaming liquid, only to pull away with blown eyes and a grimace. He does a full body shudder then rolls his shoulders, shaking out his body. “Yeah, that’ll do it,” His voice is raw from the drink in front of him. His reaction to the drink swings wildly between enjoyment and being forced to eat radioactive waste with every sip. Seungmin pushes his cup gently away from himself. 

“You shouldn’t tell people I’m hungover, it’s unbecoming.” 

Seungmin tilts his head in his hand - his spare hand is thumbing the sleeve of his drink, feeling the warmth seep through the insulated cup into the pad of his thumb. “You drank a lot last night.” 

Minho’s pale face stares back at him, “Yes, Seungmin. I did. And my body is making me pay for it, you don’t need to do it too.” His eyes are red and still a little puffy, eyebags more prominent than usual. His lips catch the rim of the lid from where they are dry and peeling. A bit in the corner of his mouth is violent red from where it had been bleeding in the morning. Seungmin wonders briefly how they would feel against his own, then dutifully drags his eyes away. 

Minho taps impatiently at the side of his cup. He’s staring at Seungmin like it’s his  _ job _ , and although Seungmin is trying to accept that Minho likes looking at him, it still flusters him somewhat, especially that Minho never seems to care about being subtle. And Minho says that  _ Seungmin _ lacks shame. 

“So?” Minho prods.

Seungmin blinks and looks around like there’s going to be a clue waiting for him. There isn’t - of course, there never is. Seungmin is expected to pick up on all of these social clues blindly. “So what?” 

Minho kicks him half-heartedly under the table. “The conversation. You want to talk about last night, right? That’s why you’re acting weird.” 

“I’m not acting weird!” Seungmin defends. Seungmin is rushed with such a flood of embarrassment and frazzle that it makes him sneeze. Minho expertly covers the drinking hole of his cup with his hand, but still looks disappointed at the dusting of silver and gold covering the table. 

“Seungmin you’re an animal.” Seungmin looks around desperately, hoping no one sees him as he pulls napkins out of the metal holder and begins dusting it away. Seungmin ends up sparkling in his own essence like a fledgling, and it feels only apt for the conversation about to take place. “This wouldn’t happen if you sneezed into a tissue,” Minho complains, although he unwraps the scarf from his neck and leans over to bat some of the essence from Seungmin’s clothes. It’s a marginal success. 

“Yeah, sneezing your angel snot all over the place definitely is reasonable behavior for you, so I guess I was wrong.” 

“You took me by surprise,” Seungmin tries to hide his face in his hands as casually as possible, feeling the heat prick there. “I didn’t think you would be so abrupt. You didn’t seem pleased at the thought of this concept last night.” 

In any other circumstance, Seungmin is sure that Minho likely would have turned his gaze elsewhere, made a snippet of a joke to gain control over the tone of the conversation, then lead it in a direction that he wanted. But not today. Minho looks dumbly at him. “Seungmin. You were fluttering around the apartment like a termite with cabin fever all morning. You were making me chain-drink water so much that my pee was  _ transparent _ . You dragged me out of the apartment in the cold and rain for a nice hot drink while I’m sitting there popping painkillers and trying to resemble something close to human.” 

“I didn’t drag you-” Seungmin whines

“Oh enough,” Minho cuts him off with a wave. “You were giving me those puppy-eyes, you may as well have held me at gunpoint.”

“Puppy eyes?” Seungmin asks in befuddlement. His eyes were perfectly human as far as he knew.

Minho brings his hands up and squeezes thin air, probably imaging it to be Seungmin. “And you don’t even know you do it! That’s so infuriating I want to scoop them out. But  _ forgive me _ for not wanting to engage in conversation foreplay with you today. If we’re gonna have this shitty conversation then I want it to be as quick and painless as possible.” 

“You said you liked me,” Seungmin blurts out. It surprised both of them, the bluntness of the words. Seungmin hadn’t realised how the words were waiting to jump out of his mouth so that he could be rid of them. “Uh...last night. You said that.” 

Minho swallows around his teeth, then checks the security of his coffee cup lid to busy his gaze. “I did.” Seungmin wants to ask more, but he finds himself unable. Minho has plausible deniability for being drunk. Seungmin has plausible deniability for being high-strung on all sorts of awful emotions. But now? Right now? There is no excuse Seungmin can blanket himself with. To say anything outloud wouldn’t be losing his balance on the delicate tightrope - no, he would be diving off it headfirst. 

“I meant it.”    
And Minho comes along easily and severs the tightrope altogether. He says it without looking at Seungmin, but he doesn’t need to look at him to know what he’s thinking. His face is the picture of calm and collected, but Seungmin can see the telltale splotches of anxiety pulsing in tandem with his heartbeat along the edges of his soul. 

“How much?” Seungmin asks, breathlessly. Minho looks up wide-eyed, not expecting the question. 

Minho tears his gaze away. “Enough to ruin my perfectly good scarf, apparently,” Minho says, a disparaged glance at the scarf now glittering on the table. 

Seungmin could shake him. Not for any reason in particular. There is so much happening inside him, so many things that he wants to say, and so many things he  _ doesn’t  _ want to say that he knows he has to say that he just wants to grab his human by the ears and shake him until he develops mind-reading capabilities. “No, Minho.” Seungmin says, trying not to sound quite as hysterical as he feels. Minho’s attention suggests he didn’t hide it that well. “I need to know how much. Because… because…” Seungmin squeezes his eyes shut, his brain near painful at the effort it takes to say. “If I give you all of my feelings… and yours don’t match in their magnitude, then the enormity of my feelings for you will swallow yours completely and you’ll be drowning in it. It’ll drown you and it will be too late for me to stop it.” It won’t work out that way, he wants to say. It’s too blunt, too honest and Seungmin is a little afraid to bring it up, lest it sends Minho back into the worries he’d been plagued with last night. 

Minho stills his fiddling with the coffee cup for a moment. The humourless laugh takes Seungmin off guard. He isn’t sure what Minho finds so funny. 

Minho lets out another quick laugh, and although the sound is usually pleasant to Seungmin, right now it does nothing but make Seungmin’s eyebrows twist into concern.

“Oh Angel,” Minho sighs with a hint of bitterness, “You have no idea.” 

“No,” Seungmin insists. “I don’t. So tell me.” 

Minho casts his gaze anywhere but Seungmin and shifts in his seat. Seungmin sees him following a race of raindrops down the window. “I can’t…” Minho manages a glance at Seungmin, and his face twists into something like pain. Like there’s something physically lodged in his throat preventing the words from coming out. “I want to, okay? I want to - but I can’t. I can’t say it outloud Seungmin.” 

Seungmin wishes he could be mad, that he could be hurt enough to make Minho see how much he needs to hear it, but he can’t - because he understands too much. He doesn’t want to say it either. It’s terrifying. Seungmin tries to imagine the words he would say, and even in his internal monologue, he feels like he is ripping his human form open, showing Minho the blinding light of his essence and all its secrets.  _ Go on, take it. Play with it. It’s yours. Do whatever you want with it. _ He can’t lay himself out for anyone like that, it’s against his nature both as a person and as an Angel. 

“So we’re at a stalemate,” Seungmin says. Minho says nothing. Seungmin would say something about the guilt tucked away in the crease of his eyebrow, but Seungmin knows the same guilt is written on his own face.

Neither are willing to bare themselves first. Neither want to submit to the risk of being too much, of being too intense with their affection only to not have it matched. It’s ridiculous because deep down they both know the well of endless affection for the other that lies there - but it is buried deep down, out of conscious mind for fear they’ll both go insane if they think about it too much. 

They sit in mutual silence for a while, both understanding the feelings of the other, but neither wanting to be the man to give up themselves first. Eventually, Minho thumps his head on the table. Seungmin slips a hand between the hard surface and Minho’s skull - who does these things with a headache, seriously?

“This is so annoying!” He cries, dragging the syllables enough to catch the attention of the baby in the pram. Seungmin bows his head in apology for disturbing its pastry-time. “Can’t you just read my mind?! Or give me your thoughts like Chan did to Jisung that one time?”

Seungmin cringes at the thought. “I don’t want to do that. It’s illegal for angels of my rank, but also… I’m not sure how it works, whether I can pick and choose what information to give you…” 

“You afraid I’ll learn all your dirty little secrets?” Minho asks with a smirk. He moves his head so his chin is resting in Seungmin’s palm like some sort of offering. 

“More like I’m afraid the sheer volume of information I have in my head will make your brain neurons short-circuit.” 

Minho makes a petulant noise, and Seungmin’s heart swells with affection. 

“A halobond would let you feel it, right?” Minho says. Seungmin pauses, Minho’s head in his palm suddenly feels a lot like a tactic to stop him from running away.

“You wanted one last night,” Seungmin says, testing the waters. It’s an uncomfortable topic for him, it always has been. He’s worried that his desperate want for a halo bond will affect Minho’s opinion, which isn’t fair. He tries to regulate his voice, act like he’s completely impartial - but he knows that Minho knows otherwise. 

“I did.”

“Is it something you want or…”  _ Or was Jisung right - was it a desperate cry for something, anything, and Minho was just shooting for the only thing he thought Seungmin couldn’t deny him _ . 

“Is it something you want? It’s a big deal for angels, right? I know that much.” Minho asks. He takes another drink of his coffee - wincing only a little. It goes down as easy as a shot of gasoline. 

“It’s…” Seungmin searches for the exact words to describe the weight of a halobond, but it’s too complicated, it’s too intense to get into right now, “It’s kind of the entire deal.” 

Minho sucks his teeth. Seungmin knows that he knows this, the conversation is more of a… a formality. Maybe Minho had accepted the conversation foreplay (whatever that means). 

“Well… if you want one. I think that I wouldn’t mind-”

“If you don’t want it of your own accord then I’m not doing it. And if I think you’re lying about wanting one to give into my innate biological desires and make me happy then I won’t do it. Minho, it would be different if I was your angel from birth, but I’m not. Letting me into your brain like this is a huge step for you as an adult, and you’re entirely within your reason to be nervous or apprehensive. There’s no taking it back, you know that?” 

“I know it, yes,” Minho replies - completely ignoring everything else that Seungmin had just said. 

“I’m not doing it unless I am convinced you’re doing it honestly. I know you were… worried about me,” Saying it pains him, “But my feelings shouldn’t be a factor in the decision.” Seungmin is saying this seriously, in hushed tones so that the baby currently staring him down can’t listen in, and Minho is just staring back at him, partly amused.

“Seungmin, you’re so annoying,” He says dotingly. “Of course I want it. I was just trying to play cool.” 

Seungmin despairingly holds his head in his hands. Why was his Human intent on making this process as difficult as possible? Minho pats his hair soothingly, all too aware of the misfortune he presses on Seungmin, and all too pleased about it. 

“Why? It’s only me.” 

Minho hides a smile behind another drink of coffee. His lips cracked and sore looking against the plastic. “Yes, you’re right. It’s only you, Seungmin.” 

======

Seungmin likes to think of himself as focused. He studied harder than anyone else during the Guardianship Exams, he had done well at all his fledgling classes, and even today, he still likes to read both non-fiction and fiction books to build up a better understanding of humans. His morning meditation under the Sun’s rays is a method for him to hone his focus - he needs to be sharp to look after Minho, to be aware of dangers and rely on instinct alone to keep him safe. 

Hyunjin has commented on Seungmin’s ability to maintain focus, reaching out to steady Minho, or push the coffee table out of the way before he trips, whilst engaged in another conversation. It’s all about focus. 

So  _ why _ can Seungmin not concentrate on anything coming out of Minho’s mouth when all he is doing is  _ looking _ at Minho’s mouth.

He’s painfully brought back into reality by a wooden spoon slapping his butt, which makes him yelp and flutter a few feet to the ceiling. Minho drags him down again by his robes. Minho smooths the wrinkles out, grumbling about Seungmin’s sweater being in the laundry because the silks are so difficult to maintain. “Can you at least pretend to pay attention to what I’m saying whilst you stare at my mouth like a horny teenager?” 

“I was paying attention-” Seungmin sneezes, Minho desperately tries to cover his paella from the outburst, but fails miserably. Seungmin apologies while Minho scoops his dinner into the trash. “Get out of the kitchen - you’re banned, do you hear me?” Minho chases him with the wooden spoon until Seungmin stands where linoleum meets carpet. 

“I’m sorry, what were you saying?” Seungmin asks, genuinely feeling bad about the dinner. Minho seems pleased enough to find an excuse to order chinese food, though. Minho tosses his plate in the sink - Seungmin’s turn to do the dishes, apparently - and swings himself onto the breakfast island. He gestures Seungmin over, and he follows, although not pleased at the whistling and clicking. He isn’t a puppy and he doesn’t understand why Minho calls him such. 

“I don’t even remember now, your glitter bomb threw me off.” Minho lightly kicks Seungmin’s ribs, using it as an excuse to hook his foot around his back and pull him closer. Seungmin swallows harshly at the closeness - where does he put his hands? “Are you going to do that every time you lie, now?” 

Seungmin feels a little bad. He makes an effort to clean up when it happens, but essence is like glitter - it has its way of staying past its welcome. There’s glitterings of it in the carpet, the window latch, even on the bathroom mirror. Seungmin’s traitorous mind supplies him with images of other places it would look a lot better.``I’m not sure why it’s happening so much. I can ask Chan, maybe he will know a way to fix it-” 

“No.”

“No?” Seungmin cocks his head. Minho grabs him by the ears. 

“Ugh - stop doing that! It’s making me want to squeeze your skull again.” Seungmin still isn’t sure what Minho is referring to. “I don’t mind. The sneezing. It’s kind of cute-” Despite his words, Minho says this with a grimace, although no dishonesty is in his face. Seungmin can’t help but break into a smile. 

The way Minho is looking at him makes his smile fade, however. He’s being looked at with such  _ weight _ , so much emotion, that Seungmin isn’t sure what to do with it. The air changes suddenly, with Minho holding onto his head. The palms shift as if sensing that Seungmin had been aware of them, onto the sides of his face. Minho looks purposefully at the halo on Seungmin’s head - which he rarely does, out of respect, Seungmin guesses. The looks makes Seungmin squirm, he isn’t entirely comfortable with his halo being under such an intense look, but he doesn’t move away, he couldn’t even if he wanted to. 

“Will it look the same way Hyunjin’s does?” Minho asks.

“It will be purple - that’s the colour of your soul,” Seungmin says. Minho gnaws on his lip deep in thought, and Seungmin is nothing short of entranced. The lips are still damaged from the dehydration of the other night, still a little raw and sore in places. Seungmin thinks about it incessantly. Unwelcome images flooding his brain. So, of course, his brain decides to spit out nonsense that he would have liked to keep to himself. “I can feel it inside me still. I can feel little fingerprints of your soul inside me from when we....” 

“...Kissed?” Minho helpfully supplies. The conversation changing direction pushes Minho to eye Seungmin deliciously. Oh Heavens, Seungmin isn’t strong enough for this. “How did that happen?” 

“I-I don’t know. It’s as if your soul reached into me…” 

“Oh, is that what I was doing?” Minho smiles. “I thought I felt something weird happening, I thought it was nerves.” Seungmin can only stare helplessly. Minho urges Seungmin’s hands out of his robes, and guides them to his neck. It’s a gentle hold, Seungmin’s thumbs a welcome pressure on the full of his cheeks. Not contact enough to risk a bond, but it’s as close as he can get. “Do you want to feel it again, Minnie?” 

The nickname renders Seungmin momentarily useless. Only momentarily, though. Because the next moment he’s meeting Minho’s lips and he’s  _ finally _ getting the answer to the question that’s been plaguing him. Minho’s lips feel just as good now as they did then. 

There is less reservation here, less tip-toeing around what they really want, and it isn’t long before Minho is wrapping his legs around Seungmin and bringing him close, their bodies as flush as they could possibly be with Minho sitting up on the counter. The hands leave Seungmin’s face, moving through his hair, his neck, cupping his own hands - they’re exploring Seungmin in a way that he’s never experienced. The noise that Minho makes into Seungmin’s mouth is downright  _ sinful _ whenever a hand paws at his exposed shoulder. 

“I hate it when you wear your robes like this,” Minho mumbles into his mouth, voice laden with contempt, Seungmin pulls away to fix the silk at his other shoulder, Minho’s blown pupils trained on him like a hawk. The hand doesn’t shift from his exposed shoulder, tracing over the muscle and dipping into the hollow of his collar bones. Minho seems to snap himself out of whatever daydream he had fallen into, pulling Seungmin back into the kiss, much more heated. It makes Seungmin’s head spin. 

Minho is right  _ there. _ And he’s panting into his mouth, and suddenly, there’s a tongue rolling over his lip, accompanied by a gentle bite and pull at his bottom lip - and all Seungmin can do is gasp, letting Minho take the opportunity to slip his tongue into his mouth. Seungmin should be overwhelmed, he should be at a loss for what to do with Minho’s hand tightening its grip on his bare shoulder, the tongue dancing circles with his own, the little huffs and puff his human is making beneath him - but it all falls into place.

Seungmin has always been a dutiful and quick learner. He learns how to stop his teeth clacking against Minho’s - he learns that he too, needs to use his tongue: and does he use it. Seungmin takes the opportunity to explore any inch of his human with embarrassing eagerness, mapping the scope of his lips, every groove and flex of the other’s tongue, even mapping his teeth: Seungmin has a burning, aching need to  _ explore. _

And he gives in. He wraps a hand around to the tender spot of the back of the neck and keeps Minho there for Seungmin to follow what his heart is telling him to do. He is hungry and greedy how he explores Minho, but it truly can’t be helped. Every cell in his body is electric with the need to be inside him, to explore the innermost workings of his mind, his soul, his body. It’s a hunger that Seungmin hadn’t experienced before, and the little gasps that Minho is making so beautifully into his mouth is only spurring him further. 

He wants Minho, he wants Minho more than he, an Angel, should ever want anything. 

Minho moans deep and low into his mouth suddenly, pulling away with a gentle tug of Seungmin’s lips between his teeth. Seungmin wants to place a kiss on the red flush of his face. “What the fuck is that…” Minho pants, heat wafting over Seungmin’s cheeks. It takes Seungmin a moment to realise what he’s done, and the realization makes a shudder run up his back.

“My essence… it’s … it’s looking for the core of your soul,” Seungmin had been so blinded by the red-faced man in his hands that he had hardly noticed that a piece of his essence had sneaked its way into his Human - he can feel it, delicately exploring Minho’s innermost working while Seungmin handles Minho throwing himself back against his mouth. 

“It feels so… God,” Minho moans, “Seungmin, I can feel you inside me - not in the sexy way, but it  _ is _ really sexy,” Minho pulls himself from Seungmin’s lips, dropping his head onto the bare shoulder presented to him. Seungmin rubs a tender finger over the base of his skull, right above the spinal cord and feels his essence explore his human. 

Every experimental tug of his essence has Minho humming pleasantly into the crook of his neck, and Seungmin isn’t sure if he’s ever gotten goosebumps before, but he certainly is now. He can feel Minho beneath him, and he knows that he’s erect, he can feel it pressing into his stomach with every shift of the hips - but Minho takes calming breaths on his shoulder, angling his hips away. Not yet, they’re not ready for that yet. 

But the thought… the thought of him affecting Minho in that way makes his face explode with heat. Minho isn’t as reserved with sex, they’ve discussed the concept of sexuality before. It is a funny old thing for humans, whereas Angels don’t do it at all, at least not in their True form. 

Minho, the dastardly creature, bites ever so lightly on the curve of Seungmin’s neck, and the reaction his body has to it is so violent that he has to pull away, face flushed at the embarrassing noise that escapes him. Minho is amused at it, at least. 

“Sensitive?” 

Seungmin doesn’t dignify him with an answer, squeezing the back of his neck in a weak response. Minho looks equally as in disarray as Seungmin feels, lips swollen and shining with spit and the littlest hint of essence, face dusted with a heated pink, hair standing at all ends, and a twinkle in his eye.

“Are you happy right now, Seungmin?” Minho takes Seungmin’s hand in response to his confusion and presses it into the soft of his tummy, “I can feel you here, thrumming a little. You feel happy - I don’t know how I know but I can  _ tell. _ ” 

Seungmin can’t feel anything through Minho’s clothes, but he doesn’t dare move his hand. Seungmin feels for his essence to draw it back… only to look down at where his hand is pressing softly in confusion. He can’t sense anything out of the ordinary. He moves for a moment, enough to strip Minho of all physical contact for a brief moment. “Can you still feel it?”

“Yes, now get back over here right now.” Seungmin does, and he does so with a welcome kiss on the fat of his cheek. For some reason, that makes him flush the hardest yet, only a brief, but firm kiss has rendered him momentarily useless. He forces his brain to work again. 

“The halo bond… it might… it might be able to go both ways,” He mumbles.

“What?”

“Angel essence was never known to have the same consistency as a human soul, it couldn’t be broken and a scrap of it donated to another - but I guess no one has had a reason to try before. A piece of your soul would go to my halo, allowing me to sense you without being near you… and maybe… some of my essence would find home somewhere on you, too? I’m not su-” 

Seungmin is silenced by a very, very powerful kiss, more teeth and tongue than much else, and he’s kind of glad that the blinds are shut because if the Sun saw how he responded in likeness, he would never hear the end of it. 

They’ll work it out. The bond thing. Oddly enough, despite the halobond being the subject of Seungmin’s desires, a part of his Angelic nature which has been denied of him for so long, the entire thing is forgotten once Minho starts peppering his neck with soft kisses, taking advantage of his bare shoulder to explore the expanse of golden skin there. All he can think about is Minho in front of him, and taking his human apart, and letting his human do the same to him in likeness.

Minho pulls himself off of the counter, and in turn, pulls Seungmin into his bedroom, and there their souls lick and dance at each other in a symbiotic exchange of curiosity. Their hands scope whatever area of the flesh isn’t covered by cloth. Seungmin’s collarbones shine with Minho’s tongue, the top knobs of Minho’s spine coated with a layer of gold. 

The bond will happen, eventually. Minho’s soul pawing at every crook and cranny of his soul is enough of a tell for Minho’s want of it - as is every breathy gasp when Seungmin’s essence explores a new part of Minho’s insides.

There is time. Here, in Minho’s apartment, where Seungmin has his own bedroom with a framed photo of his newly expanded friend circle, where the fridge is stocked with all the juices that Seungmin likes, where Seungmin and Minho’s toothbrushes bump heads where they share a cup, where angel dust glitters in the broken fragments of the sun between the slits of the blinds: here they have all of the time in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I tell you there's only around 2 chapters left will you kill me? T T I don't want this to end 


	15. 15. Cat-Dog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [To skip smut please note the 👼👼👼 emojis before and after the scene!] 
> 
> Sorry for the wait on this ~ More in the End Notes!

Seungmin is happy that Minho got a job. Of _course_ he is. Especially when Minho comes home in an offensively form-fitting suit and a bag of hot, greasy food, already filling Seungmin in on his annoying office-mates. Seungmin slowly grew to understand some ‘office culture’. Apparently, there’s something called ‘e-mail etiquette’ which Minho seems strangely obsessed with. Seungmin once listened to Minho rant for thirty-five minutes about a supervisor who signed one of his e-mails with ‘Regards’ - which apparently means he just declared war with Minho? 

Seungmin doesn’t pretend to understand _everything_ , but he listens nonetheless.

The job is a simple one. Something about reading through papers and ensuring they’re being directed to the right companies - Seungmin isn’t sure. For the most part, Minho sits and browses social media, so it mustn’t be taxing. It’s convenient that Changbin just so happened to discover that his Aunt was advertising a part-time office position that was perfectly suited to Minho’s limited skillset and short-cut education. 

Even better: Minho works from home two of the three days he works, only actually going to the office one day a week. The days that Minho works from home are fine. Seungmin will quietly float around the apartment, sometimes inviting someone over to keep him from getting too bored while Minho taps away on his laptop on the breakfast counter. But the days Minho has to go to the office? Seungmin hates those days.

Hypothetically, he _could_ follow Minho and simply revert to his angelic form. The issue is that Seungmin knows that Minho is deserving of space, and Seungmin doesn’t want to rob him of his one day he gets to have to himself. Seungmin isn’t a ball of anxiety or incapable of ensuring Minho’s safety, though. Jeongin and Chan both have Minho on their rader and have promised their surveillance. Their words are law, and Seungmin has no reason to doubt them. 

The issue is this: Seungmin _misses_ Minho when he’s not around. 

It’s a little ridiculous, because it’s not like Seungmin sits around like a lost puppy waiting for Minho because he doesn’t. He visits Felix, or lounges in the Heavenly Gardens with Hyunjin, or accompanies Changbin on his lunch, even if Seungmin only orders drinks. He enjoys the company, but company with Minho cannot be replaced, and Seungmin feels it like an ache on his shoulders whenever he waits for him to come back. 

Today has been especially bothersome. The rain is falling in heavy sheets. The water is flooding the streets and no one in their right mind will be leaving the comfort of their warm homes to tramp around in the miserable weather. Seungmin had planned to go with Felix to a new bakery that had opened somewhere near Felix and Jisung’s apartment since Felix was brimming with excitement to try their range of brownies and Felix promised him something called a milkshake - which he _insisted_ that Seungmin would like. 

Sadly, given the rain, Felix cancelled to stay tucked in bed watching movies with Jisung. Seungmin was warmly invited, but he doesn’t particularly want to squeeze beside the couple in their bed, that’s breaking some type of social code for sure. So Seungmin sits on the couch, dutifully reading through a German novel and noting that his infrequently practised languages need brushing up. 

It’s a long, long day. Not even any of the angels have the time to drop by, apparently dealing with yet another climate-crisis somewhere on the West coast of America. When Minho’s keys finally click into the lock and the door handle turns, Seungmin all but throws his book onto the couch and vibrates in the entranceway. Seungmin recognises his lack of subtlety and elects to completely ignore it, hovering around Minho as the man toes off his shoes and locks the door behind him, not recognising the storm hovering over the other’s head until it’s too late.

“Have you eaten already? You have leftover kimchi fried rice in the fridge. Or do you want to order food? The salad place has a promotion on, I could see it from the window.” Seungmin continues to hover behind Minho as he walks away, paying no heed to the lack of feedback. “Was today good? Did your officemate bug you more today? Jisung said I should watch a show called ‘The Office’ so I can learn more about your workspace, do you think I should - maybe we could watch it together, I think it’s a comedy and I know you like them on weeknights.” Seungmin fixes Minho’s suit jacket where it is thrown haphazardly on the couch. 

“Hey, your tie is really tight, did you wear it like that all day? That doesn’t look very comfortable-”

“Oh my God, Seungmin!” Minho’s volume catches Seungmin by surprise. He floats back a couple of wingspans. He doesn’t like the way Minho is looking at him, it’s a face he hasn’t been subject to in a long time. “I’m only home and you’re nipping at my ankles like an attention-starved puppy! Can you give me ten goddamn minutes before you start suffocating me?!” 

If Seungmin feels pained by the outburst, Minho wears his own regret tenfold. Humans are stubborn creatures, so it comes to no surprise that Minho quickly masks the pain on his face for his outburst and retreats to his room with an echoing slam. Minho rarely yells nowadays - but he used to, and always when he was anxious or stressed about something. Never out of anger at Seungmin, even in the earliest days of their relationship as Angel and Human. Never out of malice or thoughtlessness - Heavens, it was never really out of anger. Minho was not one to get angry, Seungmin knows well enough that his loudness and abrasiveness is all a defense mechanism to hide his innermost feelings in case people pry too deep. 

Seungmin knows this - and yet it doesn’t help the pitfall in his stomach. 

The air feels wrong. The black hole in his stomach is sucking all the familial energy and companionship from the air, leaving it thick and stale, like a meal gone bad. He lets himself move to his bedroom and lets the mountain of cushions on his bed that Minho had _insisted_ on buying engulf him. 

Maybe Seungmin has grown too eager to spend time with Minho. Maybe the one day a week that Minho has to himself isn’t enough. The thought makes Seungmin’s throat constrict uncomfortably.

The notion that Seungmin loves Minho _way more_ than Minho loves him is comforting in the sense that fits the unhappy but familiar narrative he had developed in his mind, but it aches deep. It fills him with such awful emotions: embarrassment for being too reckless with his feelings; the knowledge that he _knew_ better than to let this happen; the looming threat of having to quash his feelings in order to maintain his duty. But still, while these horrible feelings make Seungmin rock himself gently on the sofa with his chin on his knees deep in thought, they provide some type of twisted comfort. There is something reverent about pain caused by loving too much. 

The sun weakly tries to shine through the cloud, her rays taking the raindrops on the window and exploding her light inside of them, like droplets of pure amber, just for the Angel on the other side of the glass. Seungmin, however, is too deep within his own misery to notice, and not too long later the clouds win the battle and the Sun is hidden once again. 

Her message, however, does not fall on blind eyes. When She reaches out once more, through a different pane, directing her rays through the slats of the blinds, She knows that her light will reach the places it needs to.

Minho squints as the sun unexpectedly breaks from the clouds and the rays shoot directly into his eyes. He locks his phone - not that he had been overly invested in the video that Changbin had sent him anyway - to properly close the slits left open of the blinds -

A sparkle catches his eye. 

There, on the empty side of Minho’s bed, a gentle dusting of essence from when Seungmin had lain with him the night before. Like he had many times in the recent weeks. 

Seungmin will sit with him while he eats. Seungmin will watch all of the cartoons he has no interest in, but pays almost unwavering attention to - simply because Minho likes them. Seungmin will wash and fold Minho’s clothes because he knows it’s Minho’s least favourite chore. Seungmin will fall into bed with Minho and respond to his kisses with equal hunger, he will lift the clothes from Minho’s body and leave sheens of silver-gold kisses there, he will use his mouth _fiendishly_ and do sinful things to Minho’s tongue, and he will wait patiently with that innocent smirk when Minho needs to take a break or to relieve himself altogether. 

Minho reaches over and fluffs the pillow. His heart stings when a little puff of essence is exhaled from the movement. Sometimes Seungmin will sit beside him, reading his strange foreign novels, while Minho drifts to sleep whenever Minho asks for the comapny. He likes hearing the tempered breathing of his angel. He likes the warm body beside him. He likes the feeling of his feathers tickling his nose. 

Minho kind of wants to slam his head into the wall, but Seungmin would probably say something about that not being an intuitive emotional response, so instead he swallows his pride and decides to do something he should have done a long, long time ago. 

Seungmin doesn’t know what’s worse: the humiliation of wrapping himself in his wings like a fledgling - or Minho catching him doing it. 

“Hey,” Minho says, gently closing the door behind him. 

“Hey,” Seungmin manages. He doesn’t open his wings, now using them to shield the embarrassment on his face. 

“I knocked the door but…” 

“I didn’t hear.” 

“Right, that’s what I thought.” Seungmin hears the gentle padding of Minho’s socked feet on the floor. The bunny-patterned socks are all that Seungmin can see from between his wings. The gentle hand petting his head is comforting, unexpected but welcome. Seungmin moves into it. “You look like a caterpillar,” Minho says affectionately. 

“One of the hairy ones?” 

In response, Minho lifts the sides of Seungmin’s hair, judging its length. “Maybe in a week or two.” 

“By then I’ll be a butterfly by your logic.” Minho tugs lightly at Seungmin’s hair in response, then pats it back into a respectable shape. The petting continues for a while, slowing down into the movements that Seungmin recognises as unconscious, like how Minho will sometimes pat or paw at Seungmin half-asleep. Then, his wings are gently nudged apart. Seungmin stiffens at first - Minho hasn’t touched his wings much before, it sends a surprising shock through his body. He shakes himself and lets Minho’s offering through, taking it into his lap. 

“I don’t eat,” He says. 

“I know. I felt like I needed to give you something as an apology, it makes it easier. I didn’t have anything else-” Minho quiets. Seungmin almost peeks through his feathers. “Wait there.” When Minho returns, an empty hand peeks through the gap of his wings, and Seungmin gives Minho back the apple. In exchange, Seungmin waits. And waits. Then Minho makes a little snorting- noise and Gabriel’s head peeks through the gap. Seungmin can’t help the surprised laugh he makes, which only gets egged on by Gabriel shrieking then hiding behind the feathers, shaking in fear. 

Seungmin takes Gabriel and holds him close. It cheers him enough to lax his wings. They still barricade his sides somewhat. Like a curtain call, the white feathers part for Minho’s presence, and there he is. There he is. There he is. 

“I had a bad day. I’m sorry,” Minho says. His hand reaches out and Seungmin takes it. “I shouldn’t have yelled, and I was… I was harsh.”

“You were.” Minho cringes, but there is no argument. Seungmin rests Gabriel between his legs and takes Minho’s hand with his other hand, now a pair rubbing circles on the back of his hand with his thumbs. “What happened? It isn’t like you to be upset like that. Normally you’re only so openly upset when you’re anxious or scared.” 

Minho blinks, then hides a smile at the floor. Seungmin knows him well. “You know, I hate how you’re right all the time.” 

“What Angel would I be if I wasn’t?”

“A tolerable one.” Seungmin huffs, and Minho swings his arm playfully. No harm no foul. “I was worried about something. I always am when I am away at work.” Seungmin prompts him to continue, and Minho does so with a chipper laugh, like it’s an exciting tale: “Seungmin, I worry about _you._ ”

Seungmin stops swinging along with Minho, his body a dead weight in confusion. “Me?” 

“I worry because I know you worry. I sit in my office, drinking shitty coffee, doing the easiest job in the world, listening to my cubicle neighbour tell me all about her polyamous boyfriends in vivid detail, and all I can think about is your ugly face twisted up in concern, staring at the wall or whatever it is you do all day.” Minho gets sent enough photos from his friends of their outings to not know what Seungmin does on these days. Seungmin lets it slide. If it’s easier for Minho to be honest by clouding it in the illusion of passiveness, then so be it. 

“A circle of worrying doesn’t seem very helpful.” Minho pulls Seungmin’s arms hard in response. Seungmin yelps and has to plant his feet firm on the floor to counteract the shift of gravity. Minho dramatically sighs, falling with his back to the bed, perfectly in between Seungmin’s legs. His hair tickles his bare legs, shorts riding up.

“It doesn’t - does it?” Minho says thoughtfully. He leans into Seungmin’s knee, and as if by reflex, Seungmin starts carding his fingers through Minho’s hair. He had touched up his roots recently, and the ammonia always leaves his scalp irritated, so scalp massages were almost instinctive to Seungmin. Minho had mentioned once that Seungmin would suit a light brown, something about it adding to his angel-look. If he was meant to have brown hair, his body would have been designed as such - but this response gets him called boring. 

Seungmin hums in agreement. Minho’s hand is cupping the flesh of his calf - looking anywhere to touch, any scope of skin to cup in his hands, or examine with the fleshy pad of his thumb. When they’re in bed, enjoying each other’s company while doing their own thing, Minho’s hand will tickle under Seungmin’s chin, or snake up his legs, or around the full of his biceps. It’s hardly something Minho even realises he’s doing - it’s an instinct. Seungmin had found it funny, until he realised that he was just as bad.

The feeling dawns on him slowly and brilliantly: Minho is _here._ Minho’s aura is a contently pulsing purple around his figure, the little weak sapling has planted its roots and has grown strong, no longer broken and in need of tending. Minho is here: in an apartment near his friends, who he sees regularly; with a steady job that he doesn’t hate; a light behind his eyes and true, _honest_ happiness burning at the core of his soul. 

Seungmin pulls Minho’s fringe back from his forehead, guiding Minho’s head with it until Minho is staring up at him, with an amused look in his eye. That glint of trouble. It’s a dangerous thing, but it isn’t malicious. Seungmin loves the trouble, loves the push and pull that Minho gives him. There are a million other little spectacles bouncing behind those eyes, rich with personality and spirit. Seungmin could watch them all day. 

“What?” Minho says. “You’re concentrating so hard that you’re going cross-eyed again.”

Seungmin doesn’t even bother to deny the ridiculous accusation. The angels would not make a fellow angel’s vessel _cross-eyed._ That’s besides the point. The twinkle in Minho’s eye dances with mischief at the quip, waiting for the denial, waiting for an opportunity to play with Seungmin. _That_ is his human. 

“I’m proud of you.” 

The change in Minho’s face is instant. Slack-jawed, eyes wide like witnessing an act of God. The hand holding onto his calf falls to the ground. Minho turns, not breaking eye contact, now on his knees before Seungmin, close enough to touch the tips of his wings. The hands squeeze his knees, and Minho asks in prayer: “What did you say?” 

“I said: I’m proud of you, Minho.” Seungmin repeats. He is almost prepared to be asked again. Heavens, Seungmin is prepared to say it again in any human tongue imaginable. _Estoy orgulloso de ti, Minho. Saya bangga dengan awak, Minho. Wǒ yǐ nǐ wéi róng, Minho. Táim bródúil asat, Minho._ But he doesn’t need to, because Minho doesn’t ask again. 

Minho surges from his knees, onto Seungmin’s lap, grabs Seungmin’s face and kisses him firmly. He kisses him again. And again. And again. And again. 

Seungmin fights for a beat to steady his whirlwind of thoughts. Minho is looking at him with a hungry type of devotion, too much for Seungmin to bear, but the sun breaks through the clouds, seeking out the score of Minho’s profile and exploding his irises into amber. The lights behind his eyes call him in, now unignorable in the Sun’s rays. Calling out to him, he can’t look away.

Angel, O’Angel, let it happen. _Who ever said the bee was drowning in its honey? Who ever said the bee needed rescuing? O’Angel, were you so focused on the brutalism of life that you failed to consider that the bee is swimming joyously, crying out not for help - but for companionship?_

“What was that for?” Seungmin manages, trying to act normal, as if there isn’t endless life behind Minho’s eyes. 

Minho, thankfully, tears him from his thoughts by messing his hair, making anguished sounds while he does so. “Seungmin, I have so much affection for you sometimes that if I don’t kiss you right away then I might just start punching you in the face. I don’t know how else to express it. It isn’t enough. I don’t… I don’t know how else to express it.” Minho makes a pained look, and to avoid Seungmin’s eyes, looks out into the window.

The rain had mostly cleared from the glass, the low evening sun highlights the few persistent raindrops clinging on, eager to watch the show. The clouds too have broken, calling for a cloudless night. Seungmin blinks when he sees it - but sure enough, the Moon is laying proudly in the sky, right alongside the Sun. When Seungmin was a fledgling on his trips to Earth, seeing the two Mothers sharing the sky had been nothing short of witnessing a miracle, but now he knows it isn’t an uncommon occurrence, although a little surprising at this time of year. 

“I’ve been thinking about it, telling you how I feel, that is,” Minho says, still not meeting his eyes. “I even pondered it relentlessly with the others. Felix said that I was being delirious. It’s love. I’m in love. But…” If Seungmin’s heart wasn’t tied down with his ribcage, it would have jumped out there and then when Minho looks his way briefly. “It isn’t enough, you know? I mean, _obviously_ I’m in love with you.”

“Clearly,” Seungmin says, mouth like cotton. Minho regards him with a raised eyebrow.

“You didn’t know?” 

Did Seungmin know? Did he? He knew something, but the human terms for abstract feelings are too convoluted for the Angel’s mind to truly wrap around just yet. “I don’t know. Yes? Yes.” Minho snorts, but squeezes Seungmin’s cheek between his fingers and calls him cute.

“Well, I know you’re in love with me.”

“I am…” Seungmin trails off. Something about Minho saying it feels wrong. Incomplete. It almost makes him defensive, which is ridiculous, because of _course_ he’s in love with Minho - what type of ridiculous person would say otherwise? “But … more.” 

Minho nods, the conversation playing out the way he wants it to. “I said that. Love isn’t enough. This is different from anything I’ve felt. It’s… too natural, too ethereal… too _weird_ . And you want to know what Jisung said, the little asshole that he is? _‘You’re so self-centered. Everyone feels like their love is transcendent of the word. There is no such thing as ‘love’, but humans need something to call the feelings that make your guts all goopy and gross. Every love is different, every love is its own journey into the terrifying unknown and it’s piss-your-pants scary, but with piss, comes the comforting warmth. So get off your high-horse and just call it ‘love’, we all have to settle for the underwhelming four-letter word, you’re no different.’”_

Seungmin takes time to digest it. “Why did he talk about pass? Oh, I didn’t even realise that word was censored. Urine, I mean.” 

Minho scoffs. “Because he’s a _freak._ And I’m not lost on the irony of my ex-whatever giving me relationship advice, so don’t even start.” 

“I wasn’t going to start, Jisung is your friend. His advice is… it’s right.” Seungmin, for the first time, allows himself to take a proper look at their relationship ties, thousands upon thousands of threads, different colours, thicknesses, materials, sheen, each and every one is unique. Usually, these threads have some uniformity, enough to make a relationship easy to define, like the family ties that Minho is supported with Changbin and Felix, the recognisable colours of friendship braiding through the damaged threads with Jisung - but there is no easy way to call this relationship. There’s no name for it, and maybe there is no name for any relationship. Despite both being ‘family ties’ Minho’s relationships with Felix and Changbin are different, both very much love, but in a different way, a different nuance to it. 

“So we call it love then?” Minho asks.

“I suppose we do.”

“Fine then: Seungmin I love you so, _so_ fucking much. Oh gross, I feel like I’m one of Felix’s shitty drama shows.” 

Seungmin’s smile splits his face. Hearing it almost makes Seungmin vibrate off the bed, but he holds himself steady. “I love you too.” 

“Now that we have that nonsense out of the way, I want it now. I don’t want to spend one more day away from you, worried about how much you’re worrying. Or a repeat of the bar: seeing you helpless like that isn’t something I could bear again. Please, I want you to do it.”

Seungmin had been kind of expecting it, but it doesn’t make the words pull at his gut any less. It lights a fire in his gut as his instincts claw at him, demanding him to take it take it take it. Seungmin shuts his eyes and buries his head in the crux of Minho’s neck to prevent his hands acting out of order and doing something drastic. 

“Are you sure?” He breathes shakily into Minho’s neck. He feels the goosebumps rise. 

“If you ask me again I’m going to pluck you clean and make myself a new angel-feather pillow.” Seungmin threatens a bite, but with only the tiniest of pressure. A part of him suspects that Minho wouldn’t necessarily mind if he bit him, though - but that is a thought for later. 

“Now? Right now?” 

Minho responds by gently pushing Seungmin back. His eyes are burning with determination when he takes Seungmin’s hands. Seungmin feels his control slipping as the hands raise closer and closer, a hair away from the skin of Minho’s cheek. His halo is spinning circles, its empty husk pulling and grappling at Seungmin’s insides, knowing the soul is coming, the hunger for it is indescribable. 

“Yes, Angel.” 

  
  


_O’Human_

_O’Child, how you have been wronged_

_The destinies written by the Heavens have harmed you_ _  
_ _For they fear humanity  
_ _How such a tiny bee can be such catalyst for the heavens.  
_ _My newfound craters are my flaws, ugly in their humanity_

_Ugly in the eyes of the Heavens_

_Yet they are revered.  
_ _In the imperfections lie the very core of humanity  
_ _The wounds are fingerprints of life,_

_They tell the story of wondrous humanity more than the Heavens could ever hope to.  
_ _How a divine creature could fall for imperfection_

_And how their touch turned it golden._ _  
_ _Golden as the rays which feed the Earth._

  
  


The explosion of light fades after minutes, hours? Who knows. 

Both men are disoriented, clinging onto each other’s faces for balance, pushed to their knees at the strength of the process. With Seungmin’s touch, Minho’s soul rushed through his fingertips, severing itself within the binds of Seungmin’s halo before Seungmin’s essence even had a chance to grab a hold of it. Its eagerness didn’t let up. The purple spark ran endless loops around the halo, filling out every corner, testing every space, blinding the room in a violent purple as it tested its power on top of Seungmin’s head.

In tandem, Seungmin’s essence dipped into Minho, tangling itself with the hunger of Minho’s core. It took and took and took, it roped more of Seungmin in - and Seungmin didn’t stop it. Not once. He could have given Minho every last drop of his essence and he wouldn’t have thought twice about doing so. That is how much he trusts him. There is no halo for Seungmin’s essence to settle in, but Minho doesn’t care. His soul isolates a heft portion of his essence, and engulfs it. It isn’t painful, but Seungmin lets out a low groan at the feeling - someone else taking a part of him, to hide within the recesses of their own soul. He blindly feels Minho moving desperately against his mouth and the fever of which he returns it comes as no surprise. 

When the dust settles a little and Minho’s soul comes to a steady pulse atop his head, the emotions begin to flood in. It’s hard to describe. He feels them, but not as he feels his own, they’re cloudier, a little hazier and harder to unpack, but they’re razor sharp in the attention they demand. And when they’re demanding Seungmin to feel Minho’s deep-seeded affection for him? It’s dizzying. 

Minho gasps against his mouth, and Seungmin knows he’s feeling the exact same thing. 

It’s overwhelming for both of them, and they let each other process everything, process every ounce of love, affection, doting - it leaves them both red-faced and sweating with the intensity of it all. 

Minho is the one to speak first. His throat dry, eyes twinkling with - no, Seungmin doesn’t need to look into his eyes to feel it, he can feel Minho’s second-hand wonder inside him now. “Seungmin. I - you. This is… you feel like this? About me?” 

Seungmin nods, equally shocked and delighted with the magnitude of Minho’s feelings. “I hardly believe it. You harboured these feelings for me? My halo is about to burst with it all.” 

This prompts Minho to push away from Seungmin a little bit. And Seungmin swallows a staggered sob-breath with the joy that floods his mind. _Minho’s_ joy. It feels like a patch of garden, warmed from the Sun’s generous light, barefoot soles hungrily taking her offering, letting it warm the pits of the stomach, the cockles of the heart, lightening the heaviness of the shoulders. Maybe the souls are intermingled, or maybe Minho’s joy is just so infectious that it makes Seungmin’s face break out in a smile. Minho isn’t looking at his smile, instead, he’s looking at his halo. It paints his face a gentle purple in its glow. 

“Seungmin… I - it’s - wow. Your halo was fine before, I know you hated it but it looked perfectly nice, but this is - it’s like… Las Vegas.” 

Seungmin’s laugh comes out unexpectedly, and he’s so giddy that it makes him dissolve for a few moments into giggles. “Shall we play Blackjack?” 

Minho scowls, then his face breaks into an idea. “You’d be deadly in Vegas. You’ve _never_ lost.” 

“You’re just a terrible player.” 

Minho is aggressively befuddled. It feels funny in Seungmin’s stomach. He likes it. “Poker, sure, but how can someone be bad at Uno?!” Seungmin shrugs, knowing too well that his nonchalant look is completely overridden by the fierce grin on his face. He couldn’t fight it down if he tried. “You know what - nevermind. We’re not talking about this now. You have a _glowing_ halo on your head and you haven’t even seen it yet!” 

Minho pulls him along, not even bothering to switch the light on in his bedroom as he shuts the door and pushes Seungmin towards the mirror. He doesn’t need the light. Seungmin’s halo is beaming so brightly that the white of Minho’s bedsheets are _glowing_ with the colour. The room is ignited in the brilliant colour which is _Minho._ _Minho_ is illuminating the room in a way that Seungmin has never seen a halo do before.

And there, Seungmin sees it. No longer a heavy dead thing atop his head, now a projection of Minho’s being, glowing so brightly and so proudly that it almost, _almost_ matches the mountainous spirit Minho possesses inside of him. 

He stretches his wings, watching the feathers flex. They too, pure white, hungrily take the colour and glow with equal passion as his halo. He looks - Oh Heavens - he looks like a Guardian Angel. For all his difficulties, for all his pains, for all the hardships he has faced for his ugly halo, now he has one that shines bright enough to sunbleach those memories into nothing. 

Minho is squinting from the brightness, so Minho focuses as hard as he can to mute the brightness. It works, and the room sinks into a quiet darkness… except-

Minho meets Seungmin’s eyes in the mirror, where they both fall to the slice of gold-silver glowing from Minho’s stomach. Minho traces a hand over the spot, his body shuddering. “I can feel how relieved you are. Seungmin - your happiness is _everywhere_ I - how the fuck are we going to get anything done like this? Am I meant to go to work with you bouncing around my insides like this?” The light shines through the skin of his fingers, making them glow red around the thin parts of the skin. 

It’s - it can’t be. 

Seungmin goes to Minho, and pulls the shirt loose from the belt. Minho lets him, he can feel the encouragement echoing inside him. He unbuttons the shirt from the bottom, until he has enough space to pull the curtains open, and there it is: the delicate surgical scar, shining with Seungmin’s essence. Of all places that his essence could have chosen to lay home in, it picked the beautiful thing that Minho dares to call an imperfection. Seungmin falls to his knees. The glow of his essence paints his face gold in the darkness, and he feels Minho’s heartbeat pick up. With teary eyes, he looks up at his human - a humane so divine that maybe he begins to understand the whole “God made humans in His likeness” thing. 

“Minnie…” Is all Minho manages. Seungmin rests his hands on Minho’s hips, thumbs pressing gentle into the skin. He presses a gentle kiss to the corner of the scar, his lips staining with his own essence. When Minho gasps, he looks up, tongue skirting out to rid the sheen of glitter from his lips. Something inside Seungmin pulses.

“It’s it a little unbecoming for an Angel to be on his knees before a human?” Minho teases, but the thrum of his soul gives him away. The undercurrent of intent is buried deep inside Seungmin, reaching out for attention - it’s begging to be catered to. Minho’s eyes are hungry, despite the affection in his face. Seungmin has seen those eyes before, many times when their kisses grow a little too heated for Minho to manage. 

“Isn’t it sacrilege to think of an Angel on their knees as something of deviancy rather than prayer?” 

“Who said I was imaging deviant things?” 

Seungmin is greedy. Minho’s hunger is growing, sending goosebumps up Seungmin’s skin. Is it contagious? Maybe. The likely possibility is this: Seungmin shares mind with Minho, and Seungmin is on a freight train that he can’t stop because doesn’t ‘ _body and mind’_ sound much more delicious? Wouldn’t sharing body with Minho be testament to their closeness, their trust? There are many aspects to humans that set them apart from the other animals, and one of them is _pleasure._ Humans take pleasure in sex, they love it. It isn’t an act of nature to breed, but it has evolved into an act of care, of love, of duty. Sometimes, when Seungmin hears the stifled groans from the bedroom late at night, gasps and pants for air, he sometimes let his mind wander to think - _what if I were the cause for those noises?_

“I’ve never had sex before,” Seungmin says seriously, looking up to his human.

Minho isn’t surprised. He can feel Seungmin’s emotions now, feel all the things Seungmin wants him to feel. Maybe Minho will know what deplorable things that cross Seungmin’s mind. “I know.”

“You want to have sex with me,” Minho’s insides jump, taking Seungmin’s with it. “But you never asked, why? I would have let you.” 

Minho pats Seungmin’s hair - he’s always doing that. “I don’t want you to _let_ me have sex with you. I want you to _want_ to have sex. I couldn’t enjoy it if you didn’t want it as much as me. I know Angels are reserved about sex, so I figured it wouldn’t ever be something you’d be interested in.” 

“Maybe I am,” Seungmin says quickly. So quickly that Minho asks him to repeat himself. “Maybe I am interested in sex. With you, I mean.”

Minho laughs. “Well, who else would it be?”

“Everyone seemed _really_ intent on me and Felix kissing…” 

Minho almost makes a rebuttal, but it falls into a heavy sigh. “I was going to say Jisung wouldn’t be very amused, but he likes you so much he’d probably offer to wipe your brow mid-fuck.” Thankfully, Minho doesn’t expect Seungmin to respond to that. He wouldn’t know where to start. Minho gestures for Seungmin to rise, and he does, hand slipping over the scar, light peeking out between his spread fingers. Minho plants a gentle but firm kiss on Seungmin’s mouth, and it makes Seungmin’s stomach flutter just as much as it did the first time. It was a short thing, not meant to be anything more than chaste, but Seungmin follows him as he pulls away, greedy for more. 

Their mouths work in tandem, devolving into little more than smashing their lips uncoordinated together. Minho pulls Seungmin closer by the front of his top, tongue greedily taking every offer of Seungmin’s mouth. When Minho pulls from Seungmin’s mouth with a suck on his tongue, he whines embarrassingly at the feeling, to which Minho replies in likeness.

“You always try and stay so quiet,” Minho complains, nosing at his jaw. The wet breath catches on his skin, making him shiver. It’s a horrible anticipation for Minho to _do_ something there - kiss his neck, or _anything_. But Minho just stays there, tight against Seungmin, collecting himself. “Why?” 

“It’s embarrassing-” Seungmin cuts off with a high-pitched start. Minho’s mouth is a weapon and it's relentless on the corner of Seungmin’s jaw, sucking and nibbling there. Minho’s kissed him like this before - but… the air is different, there’s promise of _more_ and it makes all of Seungmin’s nerves go on overdrive, his body experiencing things he’d never felt in his human form before. Minho makes an amused sound, then pulls on the lobe of Seungmin’s ear with his teeth. 

“I like it.”

Minho’s low voice catching on the wet left behind from Minho’s teasing makes Seungmin’s stomach jump, and he tries to get closer to Minho - he _needs_ the contact - his body is crying out for a type of physicality that Seungmin is almost lost on. His thigh rubs up against something that makes Minho’s head fall onto his shoulder in a low, pleasured moan. Seungmin immediately pauses, worried he’d done something wrong, but Minho moves against him, rolling his hips to motion for Seungmin to continue. 

Minho is clinging to Seungmin now, barely carrying his own weight (although Seungmin could easily take all of Minho’s weight without any effort), making beautiful breathy noises into the crux of Seungmin’s neck - it’s only making Seungmin’s body hungrier. 

Suddenly, after a few moments, Minho pulls away, red-faced with a glisten of sweat on his forehead. “Wait - wait. Stop. I need to - I need to get ready.” 

“Why? Where are we going?” Seungmin asks. 

“If we’re going to have sex I need to clean myself first.” Seungmin cocks his head in confusion.

“You had a shower earlier already,” Seungmin reminds him kindly. Minho is stuck somewhere between amusement and helplessness.

“Seungmin, I - Oh my God, I have to explain it don’t I? Okay. We’re both men, right?” 

“Angels don’t have gender or sex.” 

“Right so - wait, what?” Minho blinks, then shakes himself, “Okay we can unpack all that at a different date. Your human form has a dick - and so do I. Where do you think you’re gonna fit?” 

Seungmin rolls his eyes. “I know _that_ , Minho. I use your phone often, you know. Sometimes I try to look things up on the internet and I see …. Sex videos that you’ve forgotten to close.” 

Minho flops onto the bed, covering his eyes. “Stop talking.” 

Seungmin, beyond amused, stalks over him. “You have very peculiar tastes, Minho. Realistically, I should be chiding you for committing so many sins, but I’m not sure how many hail-mary’s would offset the sins in those videos.” Seungmin kneels onto the bed, leaning close to Minho’s ear. “Pre-marital sex is a sin, Lee Minho.” 

Minho laughs, crunching into a sitting position and swiping at Seungmin’s stomach. “Shut up or I’ll stuff Gabriel in your mouth,” 

Seungmin catches Minho’s arm and plays with his fingers. “Well, I hope you’re talking about the stuffed pig and not the Archangel.” 

Minho groans at the joke and yanks his hand away, “I’m going to clean before I change my mind-” Seungmin pulls him back.

“I don’t eat. We can do it the other way, it will be easier,” He says quietly. He isn’t ashamed to ask for it, but it is something that as an angel, Seungmin has never thought much about until recently. Even worse - the images are attacking his brain, and the feelings that these images are lighting in his belly are strange, and having such a desire for something is so un-angel it is a bizarre sensation. 

Minho furrows his brow, and for a moment Seungmin’s heart skips, thinking he had said something wrong, but Minho takes a seat beside him. “Generally, people don’t bottom their first time.” 

“Why not?”

“Well,” Minho says patiently, without cutting any corners. “It helps if you have an understanding of your own body first, so you can know what feels right and what feels wrong. And it requires a lot of trust in your partner, that they’ll go at a pace you feel comfortable with and won’t just use you as a sack of meat to blow their load into.” 

“I trust you.” Seungmin can’t help the confusion - why would he ever think Minho would do something like that? 

It makes Minho smile a little, but he continues, “It can hurt. No - it _will_ hurt.” 

“Are you that big?” 

“What? No - I’m average, but it’s definitely more than your muscles have felt before - especially given your… lack of digestion.” 

Seungmin suddenly gets the image like a gunshot to the brain: Minho above him, opening him up, exploring a place which is untouched, the most private and exclusive part of the Angel’s body. Exploring it and seeking his own pleasure from it, defiling one of god’s divine creations for the sake of an extremely human act of hedonism. Seungmin knowing that he, an angel, will be experiencing a pleasure beyond what Angels are designed to feel at the hands of a human - _his_ human - makes something deep inside of him throb. 

His mouth goes dry, and he’s unable to say anything, thankfully Minho is much more composed, although his eyes are dark and thrumming with the same heightened need for pleasure as Seungmin is feeling right now. “You’re not just saying it to make my life easier? You want it?” Seungmin nods. “You want me to take care of you, Angel?” 

👼👼👼

Minho undresses Seungmin so carefully, pulling each piece of fabric from his body like it may shatter Seungmin’s skin if he handles it too roughly. When he lifts the top from Seunming’s body, he kisses the skin that is slowly, painfully slowly, being revealed. Minho’s angled kisses leave little trails of wet from the jut of his hip, all the way up to the angle of his collarbone. Minho lifts Seungmin up to a sitting position to tug the top off. Minho rakes his eyes hungrily over Seungmin’s body, hands pressing all over, like he can’t quite decide where to touch next. Seungmin’s brain gives him a very helpful thought of where it would like Minho to touch next. 

Minho settles on the junction between his neck and shoulder, a light suction makes Seungmin gasp and shift his hips forward. He grips onto Minho’s shoulders for purchase, almost losing his balance. It isn’t a heavy enough suction to leave a mark - Seungmin is now bearing Minho’s mark with a purple glow, after all. Seungmin falls onto his back, thankful that he decided to phase his wings out when things started to get heavy. 

Minho trails his lips down Seungmin’s front, taking a break in the center of his chest to blow gently over a nipple. Seungmin gasps, back arching at the odd sensation. He can’t help the noise he makes when Minho takes the nub between his fingers and gently rolls it. 

“You’re very sensitive, Minnie,” Minho says without any tone to indicate his feelings. Seungmin feels amusement thrumming in the halo. 

“Is that a good thing?” 

“Hm…” Minho thinks, giving Seungmin’s nipple a flick while he contemplates. Seungmin hisses, legs unconsciously trying to squeeze together, blocked by Minho’s form between them. “You tell me.” And like that, Minho takes his nipple into his mouth and sucks like he did on his neck, tongue flicking the bud, other hand giving his other nipple the name attention. 

Seungmin’s eyes fly wide from the sudden feeling, energy rushing all around his body, having nowhere to go, all Seungmin can do is let out a squeaky cry of Minho’s name and let his hips rock forward, desperate for something, _anything._

Minho looks up, taking in Seungmin’s heaving chest and lax mouth with pride. His hands slip down his ribs, settling on his lower stomach, thumbs slipping under the waistband of his shorts and underwear. Seungmin’s eyes catch the tent of his shorts. “You’re sure about this? We can stop now, or anytime you want.” 

“Does it feel like I want to stop?” Seungmin says, pulling a little on the bond of his essence that lives in Minho’s appendix scar. Minho twitches at the feeling, but gets the hint, pulling Seungmin free of his shorts and underwear in one fell swoop. Seungmin’s cock thumps heavy against his stomach when it’s freed. Minho pauses only momentarily to stare, then resumes with pulling the clothes from Seungmin’s legs, throwing them frustrated against the wall when they stubbornly cling to his feet. 

Minho leans over to kiss Seungmin, hands greedily rubbing the exposed hips. “Can I touch you?” 

“Please.” 

Seungmin follows Minho’s direction, reaching into the bedside table and pulling out a bottle of lube, which Minho catches without looking. Seungmin can hardly make note of his reflexes, not a moment later he’s concentrating too hard on trying not to break the headboard he is using to ground himself with his grip. Minho’s hand is quick and tight. He’s too aware of the pathetic noises he’s making, but it only spurs Minho on, pumping tighter, adding a flick of the wrist at the base. 

Seungmin grapples for purchase between the headboard, the sheets, Minho’s shoulders. The feeling of pleasure is so _much._ It’s everywhere, Seungmin couldn’t think straight if he wanted to, his entire thought is just a train of “Minho, Minho, Minho-” Broken sounds falling from his mouth. 

He cries when Minho stops, shoulders slumping into the bed, part furious and part relieved. Minho wipes the mix of lube and precome on Seungmin’s stomach, which makes the angel grumble. 

“You were getting close,” Minho explains - Seungmin makes a little ‘oh’ sound. He didn’t know. He knew something was building, but he didn’t realise what exactly it was. Minho’s experience with these things allowed him to read Seungmin’s feelings, interpreting them when Seungmin can’t. “Angels don’t really have a refractory period, but it’s your first time, so we’ll go slow.” 

“Can we go slow and quicker at the same time?” Seungmin asks, feeling a ball of tension in his gut calling for something. 

After a few minutes of nothing more than heavy petting, to bring Seungmin back to a place of clear-headedness, sharing the majority of the time in a kiss which was meant to soothe, but ended up more tongue and teeth than anything else. Seungmin feels his legs being pushed more open, Minho still chasing his tongue with his own.   
He stills when he feels a prodding at his entrance. It doesn’t push in, not yet. Minho kisses up and down his neck, dipping his tongue into his clavicle while he spreads lube around Seungmin’s hole. He trails from the entrance up to the seam of Seungmin’s balls, dipping between all these previously unexplored areas. Seungmin slowly becomes comfortable with feeling the foreign touches in these sensitive places, and as soon as the feeling crosses his mind, he feels the finger, newly wet with lube, circling his entrance once again. 

“Breath deeply, I’ll go slow,” Minho says. He is sitting up now, other hand petting the outside of Seungmin’s thigh comfortingly. Seungmin had hardly released until now that Minho wasn’t even the slightest bit undressed. It didn’t bother him, although he wondered if the lube would ruin his suit pants. 

The finger pushes in, and Seungmin’s deep exhale turns into a pained groan with the intrusion. Slowly but surely, Minho eases his finger in, rubbing comfortingly on Seungmin’s thigh until Seungmin is fully accommodating the length of Minho’s finger. He lets Seungmin get used to the feeling before moving it, Seungmin has to get used to feeling something _inside_ him for the first time in his life. It isn’t unpleasant, even if the stretch is a low burning sensation. 

At Seungmin’s direction, Minho carefully begins to shift his finger in and out, applying more lube to his finger on the first pull. It is a slow process, but eventually the burn eases and Seungmin’s jaw unclenches, the line between his eyebrow eases in content and he pushes his hips back. 

When Minho eases in a second finger, he does so with as much care and ease as the first. There’s the initial burn, but it settles, it transforms into a type of fulfilling pleasure. Seungmin keens knowing that Minho is inside him, twisting his fingers and gently working him open as though he’s a delicate little thing, rather than an archaic vessel of power. Seungmin is powerful enough to pluck the planes from the sky, uproot trees, shatter windows for miles with his voice alone. And here he is, naked in the bed of his human, being spread open in the most vulnerable place with slow, careful fingers. 

Suddenly, overwhelmed with the role reversal, of being taken care of, Seungmin reaches his hand out. Minho takes it and entwines their fingers, pressing the hand into Seungmin’s belly. 

“Is it still okay?” 

Seungmin nods. “I’m just emotional. Keep going.” 

“Are you going to cry when you come?” Minho teases, Seungmin doesn’t have an answer which wouldn’t be a lie - because he realises that he very well _might_ just do that, so he shifts himself to knock his knee against Minho’s rib. 

Minho slides in a third finger, and he works Seungmin open properly. His fingers are careful but thorough with how they explore Seungmin’s insides, hungry without greed. All traces of the burning sensation are now gone, and Seungmin can’t do anything but squirm under Minho’s attention. He’s peppering Seungmin’s chest with kisses, fingers thrusting into him now, quick and purposeful. It promises what’s to come, and the thought of it being _Minho_ makes Seungmin cry out in anticipation. 

He knows he’s red-faced, chest sheening with sweat, hair likely a mess, and yet Minho is still looking at him like he had plucked the stars from the sky and made a promise ring with them. A swell of affection bubbles in Seungmin’s chest. 

Their souls cry out in an equilibrium for more, and without verbal cues, Seungmin and Minho work with haste to rid Minho of his suit. The buttons slip and slide under Seungmin’s sweaty fingers and he growls in a deep, angelic timbre that makes the bed rattle. Minho laughs and squeezes his cheek. Minho takes over the unbuttoning, and soon enough Minho is as naked as Seungmin, shifting a pillow underneath Seungmin’s lower back. 

“Is this position okay?” Seungmin asks cheekily, “Your video history shows you’d have a preference for me to be on my hands and knees-” 

“I only watched those videos so the actors would be faceless and I could imagine it was you,” Minho says seriously, effectively shutting Seungmin up. He’d kind of suspected that Minho jerked off to him, I mean, Seungmin knew he would need to relieve himself after too long of heavy petting and enthusiastic kissing, but hearing it so bluntly makes his ears turn pink. 

“I want to see your face,” Minho says kindly, then adds: “I want to see if you’ll go cross-eyed when you come.” 

Seungmin sits up on his elbows, unamused. “I could smite you for that.” 

Minho can’t help but laugh. He pushes Seungmin back down, grabbing his hips and - _Heavens -_ rubs his lube-coated length against Seungmin’s ass. “Forgive me for not feeling threatened right now, Minnie.” The nickname makes Seungmin keen, shifting his hips back. 

Minho leans forward, one hand cupping the side of Seungmin’s face and the other directing his cock to Seungmin’s entrance. Seungmin leans into Minho’s hand, wrapping his arms around the human when he feels the _push._

Seungmin can feel the hunger in his halo from Minho wanting to _go go go go_ , to take his pleasure and seek his own release, but Minho enters him so slowly and so carefully. It hurts - the pain is there, but more than the pain, is the feeling of being filled. Minho forcing Seungmin’s insides to make room for him. 

Minho breaths steadying, barely controlled breaths into Seungmins ear. Seungmin feels how Minho is shaking in attempt to restrain himself. Seungmin breaths steadying breaths, trying to adjust, trying not to think too closely about how his human is so careful for him, how he is opening himself up for the person who he had to work so hard to care for. The person who he would go through hell and heavens to protect. The person who is rubbing comforting circles on Seungmin’s belly with his thumbs, head buried in his shoulder, whispering words of encouragement in his ear. 

Seungmin pulls Minho from his shoulder and brings him in for a deep kiss, trying to ignore the taste of salt. Minho laughs weakly and pulls back, wiping Seungmin’s tears with the palm of his hand, leaving them sparkling in the purple glow. “You’re a big baby,” He says. “I haven’t even done anything and you’re crying.” 

Seungmin laughs. “I’m sorry.” His voice cracks and Minho silences him with a hand over his mouth, laughing a little more. Seungmin can feel his cock shift inside him with every giggle, and it makes his breath stutter. 

“You’ll make _me_ cry! Stop it!” 

Seungmin wipes the wetness from his eyes, and laughs again. Minho lets out a low groan at that, feeling Seungmin tighten around him. 

Once Seungmin is ready, Minho begins moving. The movements are slow and gentle, but Seungmin’s insides explode with every shift, feeling so unimaginably full with the movements that he has to grip onto the sheets. Minho thrusts slowly and deeply, and Seungmin begins meeting him half-way, panting under his human. 

Minho grabs his hands and holds them into the sheets, shifting his thighs to push Seungmin’s farther apart, allowing him to get even deeper. Seungmin moans loudly and whimpers as Minho’s thrusts accidentally stutter quickly. He encourages Minho to go faster, it feels unlike anything Seungmin had even imagined. He feels every inch of Minho inside him, tight against him. 

Minho thrusts particularly deep and Seungmin’s back arches in response, which sends a twinge of pain along his shoulder blades. His wings are getting sore. They haven’t been hidden for long at all, but given the amount of stress his body is under, it’s getting difficult and painful to tuck them away. Minho immediately stops, much to Seungmin’s displeasure.

“Stop whining for a moment. You’re in pain, what’s wrong?” Seungmin shifts a little on the pillow, wincing at his shoulder blades. Minho immediately catches on, whether through his own intonation or through their bond, but he slowly pulls out, leaving Seungmin aching and empty. He pulls Seungmin to a sitting position and rubs his shoulder blades. 

“Sorry,” Seungmin says. 

“Let them out if they’re hurting.” 

Seungmin looks over his shoulders at Minho, and slowly does what he’s encouraged to do. His wings fade into corporeality, stretching and rolling to soothe the ache, until finally folding against Seungmin’s back. Minho runs his hand down Seungmin’s spine, then fingers the spot where feathers merge into skin. It makes Seungmin gasp, dick twitching. Minho casts an interested look, but decides against exploiting the newfound sensitivity. 

Seungmin asks Minho to keep going, shamelessly getting on his knees. It takes a moment of hesitation, but eventually Minho is walking on his knees and edging himself towards Seungmin. Seungmin feels something wrong - something sour in his bond. 

_Minho wants to see his face._

Seungmin stops Minho with his wings, unfolding them and pushing Minho back, until he’s flush with his back to the headboard. “What are you doing- _oh.”_

Seungmin clambers onto Minho’s lap, hands on his shoulders to steady himself. “Will this work?” He asks genuinely. He hadn’t seen this position before and is working solely off instinct. Minho gulps heavily, eyes wide, like some type of prey in the hands of a predator.

“Yeah, Minnie. Yeah, this works.” Minho helps him find a proper position, settling on his knees at either side of Minho’s thighs, and he helps Minho direct himself back into his hole. When he sinks down, Seungmin’s eyes screw shut and he groans, and Minho isn’t faring any better, hands shooting out to grip tightly at Seungmin’s waist. 

A testing bounce becomes another, then another, then another, and then Seungmin is greedily taking all his human is offering him. Minho is moaning, which only makes Seungmin’s stomach tighten even further, knowing he is the cause of it. Minho shifts slightly, bucking into Seungmin, chasing his high with encouragement from Seungmin’s thready noises, and _something_ happens. 

Seungmin’s vocal cords fail him, and instead his true voice rumbles deeply, cracking the mirror on Minho’s desk he uses for his makeup. Minho hits something deep inside Seungmin that makes his eyes glaze over with white spots of pleasure. He devolves into nonsensical moans and encouragements spoken in whatever language pops first into his head. Minho meets his demands, meeting Seungmin’s sloppy bouncing with powerful thrusts, now wrapping strong arms around Seungmin’s waist.

“Seungmin - you’re incredible,” Minho groans, “You feel amazing, fuck-” Minho bites off a moan at a particularily deep thrust. Seungmin hardly feels like an angel, not even a human. He feels like some creature drunk off pleasure. He leans down to kiss Minho, which is soft, despite how drunk and violently Seungmin is craving _more._ Even amongst this dizzying new feeling, the tenderness of his affection overpowers it all, and he sighs into Minho’s mouth. 

“You’re close, Seungmin,” Minho pants. Oh? Is that what the feeling of his gut clenching and unclenching is? Seungmin is so glad he has Minho. He teaches him so much, cares enough even in the middle of sex to fill in gaps of Seungmin’s knowledge, so attentive to Seungmin’s needs. Minho wraps a hand around his length and jerks it in time with his thrusts. “You can let go, love, I’ve got you.” 

That was it. 

Seungmin couldn’t hold out when Minho says something like that. It hits him like the Great Flood. His body overwhelmed with pleasure, every nerve in his body sparking until all of his body is a collection of raging short-circuits. Almost every muscle in his body contracts, like an electric shock had torn through him from the inside out. Minho’s choked moan is hardly in his ears - all he can hear is the _rush_ of blood thumping. He hears objects falling to the floor, hears a deep rumble, a small explosion of glass, and then nothing. 

He comes-to some moments later, boneless and sticky flopped against Minho, who is barely preventing Seungmin from cutting off his air supply. Seungmin pulls himself straight, panting and spent. He notes his wings are fully spread, taking up the full space of the bedroom, ah, so that’s the cause for all the noise. He managed to swipe all the contents of Minho’s desk onto the floor. 

“You can finish,” Seungmin says, feeling Minho’s dick twitch inside him when he retracts his wings.

Minho laughs weakly, red-faced and sweating. “I already did, sorry. I wasn’t expecting… all that. It was - it was really hot. I tried to pull out but you’re like a vice.” 

Seungmin hums, letting himself relax back into Minho, he feels his sticky spend on Minho’s stomach, this time more conscious not to crush his lungs. “I’ll need to clean it out, right?” It sounds like a chore. Angels don’t sleep - but Seungmin could really do with closing his eyes for an hour or two after all of that. The sparks are still firing occasionally, making his legs shake unsteadily. 

Minho catches Seungmin’s shaking legs and swears. Seungmin feels the rush of arousal through the bond and almost laughs, or at least he would, if he had the energy. Minho manages to settle it within himself, because the arousal soon seeps into something more homely, more quiet and comforting. 

“I’ll help you in the bath. Don’t worry about it yet, you can lie here for a while and I’ll clean you up a little now.” Seungmin hums, unable to keep his eyes open, and helps Minho in lifting him from his lap and disposing him onto his stomach. Seungmin winces at the feeling of Minho sliding out, feeling uncomfortably _open_ and… loose. Minho leaves to get a rag from the bathroom. Absent-mindedly, he reaches around, feeling the space Minho had made for himself. Unsurprisingly, he feels some of Minho’s spend leaking out. 

When Minho returns with a pair of damp face towels, he comes back to Seungmin examining Minho’s come between his fingers, tacking it between them curiously. 

“What are you doing?” Minho asks, face screwed in disgust. He settles himself on the back of Seungmin’s thighs, wiping the sweat from Seungmin’s face with one of the towels. 

“Some people swallow it, right? The consistency seems like I could without issue.” For his honesty, he gets a mouthful of damp towel.

“I ought to put sanitizer on it to disinfect your filthy mouth! Who says shit like that _out loud?”_ Seungmin spits the towel out and uses it to wipe the rest of his face clean of sweat while Minho works on the rest of his body, taking extra care around his sensitive hole, which is starting to ache. Seungmin catches the flush of his cheeks and files that down for a later time. Minho slaps his ass cheek gently, making Seungmin cry out in shock.

“Stop thinking strange thoughts. I’m going to clean myself up, I’ll be back soon so don’t cry or anything.” Seungmin snorts.

“Angels don’t cry,” He says. Minho rolls his eyes and disappears to the bathroom. Seungmin feels himself falling into a meditative-like state of relaxation, the closest thing to sleep an angel will get, when he’s ripped back into consciousness by Minho’s loud voice.

“SEUNGMIN, YOUR FUCKING COME IS JUST AS BAD AS YOUR SNOT.” 

👼👼👼

Seungmin scrolls through the videos Felix had sent Minho. He only ever sends Minho 1:1 videos when they’re for Seungmin, who is always eager to watch the videos of baby animals being cute. This one is a squirrel swinging rapidly around a bird feeder like a cirque du soleil performance. He lowers the phone down so Minho, who is lying perpendicular with his head on Seungmin’s bare chest, can see. 

“It reminds me of Jisung,” Minho says. Seungmin looks at the video again, then back to Minho with concern.

“I think there’s something wrong with you. Jisung looks nothing like a squirrel.” 

“No,” Minho denies. “I’m really good at assigning people animals. Don’t look at me like that - try me.” 

Seungmin locks the phone and puts it down. This is serious business and it deserves nhis full attention. “Felix.” 

“Kitten.” Lightening-fast. Quick as always, but _wrong._

“Felix is clearly a chick. When he eats his lips go into a beak-shape, and you know those noises he makes when he’s excited? He sounds like a baby chicken.” 

Minho looks offended. “Okay, they’re good points, but chicks aren’t cuddly, are they? Felix will _always_ want to touch or be touched.” 

“Cats aren’t exactly known for their cuddly nature-” Seungmin feels a shock of anger through his halo, and immediately changes the subject, “Okay, what about Changbin then? He reminds me of a rabbit sometimes, I guess. He gets this little twitch when he’s interested in something, I can imagine rabbit ears doing that.”

“Pig.” 

“That’s mean!” Seungmin lightly tugs on a strand of Minho’s hair. Such a gentle waft of the hair sends the scent of banana into Seungmin’s senses. Minho had been attentive when bathing Seungmin, shampooing the sweat from his hair and even being as generous as to let him use his banana shampoo - as if Seungmin doesn’t use it every time he showers anyway. Minho pretends to be cold, glaring at Seungmin like that for pulling his hair, yet he spent the better part of an hour cleaning Seungmin, helping him slip underwear on and putting him in bed. Seungmin’s legs buckle whenever he puts too much weight on them. Minho’s cold-hearted facade seems a little familiar….

“You’d be a cat,” Seungmin says. Minho smiles.

“That’s the most sensible thing you’ve said all day…” Something in Minho’s brain clicks, and he breaks into laughter. Proper laughter. Those little clear syllables that fade away with a pleasant ‘ah’. “Felix and Changbin always say we have a cat and dog relationship, and I guess they’re right.” 

Seungmin cocks his head. “Huh?” 

“Well, obviously you’re a dog.” Minho says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“Is that why you always pet my head? And take me out on walks?” Seungmin presses in disbelief, which only makes Minho laugh more. Seungmin can’t help but join him. 

After collecting himself, Minho sits up, discarding the blanket. “I’m gonna order some food, I’m starving. Do you want a drink or anything?” He stretches, the gold-silver glow of his appendix scar sending a warm glow into the room, reaching all the crevices where the purple glow of Seungmin’s halo failed to. 

Minho clicks his fingers in front of Seungmin’s face. “My eyes are up here, pervert. You don’t see me ogling your halo drooling at the mouth.” Seungmin tries to bite the fingers, but Minho pulls them away just in time. 

“Maybe I’m just admiring your abdominal muscles, Minho,” He says, with a roll of the eyes, knowing full well Minho hasn’t had time or energy to work out since adjusting to his new routine of having a job. Minho throws Seungmin’s discarded shorts in his face and grabs his phone, leaving the room to order food. Seungmin smirks, content with getting the last word in-

 _“And just so you know - you_ do _cross your eyes when you come!”_

What an asphole, Seungmin thinks, unbearably fond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the long wait on this!! I've had such a difficult fortnight with class, I've had a total of 12 essays, 1 research paper and 2 storyboards in two weeks. I've been waking up at 6am to start working on classwork at 7 and not finishing until 10/11, so it's been hard to find time to write!  
> I can't promise that the next chapter will be up any faster, unfortunately! But I'll try!! :( 
> 
> The final chapter is an epilogue of sorts, which will explain some of the weird stuff a little more, I hope. Cue me using Bang Chan to explain things because he knows everything.  
> I hope this chapter is okay!!! I didn't read over it because I have an essay due monday LMAO ~~~ 
> 
> Also!! I don't know if anyone would be interested, but I've mentioned before that AO3 is the only place I get to interact with Stay, and I really want to talk to more people :( So I decided to make a discord server so that we can talk and be friends! (is this weird?? probably LOL)
> 
> Here is the link: https://discord.gg/Rm87XF6RXs - I really hope to see some of you there T T otherwise this will be really embarassing! I just want to talk about SKZ to someone other than my Mam LMAO
> 
> 🥝 https://discord.gg/Rm87XF6RXs 🥝


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